Leap (27 page)

I excuse myself to give them some alone time. I kiss Haven on the forehead and she knows she only has another half hour before bed when I point to the clock. I’ve become a strict parent. I’ve become Mae. God help us all.

An hour or so later, Mack climbs into bed. It’s dark inside our room. Mack slips his arm around my waist and pulls me towards his chest. He kisses in between my shoulder blades. Smaller kisses follow across to my left shoulder, then again to the center, then to my right shoulder. As good as it feels to have his lips on my skin, I still feel so uneasy. I want to shove him off of me, tell him to go away, but I can’t because I’m scared.

I roll over into his arms and kiss him. The fire between us will always be here, even when he goes away. I waste no time as I straddle his hips and ease him inside me. I take my time; riding him systematically as he places his hands on my hips, guiding me and my moves. I hang my head back and savor all the sensations I’m feeling. I get lost when his fingers dig into my skin. I love the sounds of his heavy breathing every time I raise myself up on him and then lower myself. Picking up my pace and then slowing it down. I know how this drives Mack into a frenzy, and the thing I love most is the look on his face, and as the moonlight shines into our bedroom window, I see the spark of lust in his gorgeous eyes. He’s ready. I’m ready. I cry out to Mack, “I’m coming. I’m coming.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and open them to find Mack staring at me. His jaw is agape and his grip deepens into my flesh, and I whisper, “Let go, Mack. Let go.” As if on demand, he thrusts once upwards into me, and I know he has let go.

I collapse onto his chest and wrap my arms around his neck and a sudden pang enters my heart and I am so afraid of letting go of him—of this moment—of this second in our lives together. I cry silent tears.

“Please, don’t leave us anymore. Please.”

“I love you, Rinny,” is all he says because I know there's nothing left to say. He has to go and I pray my pleas to him change his mind about our life when he gets back.

I felt him get out of bed. I felt him kiss me on my head. I smelled his cologne. I felt the smoothness of his cheek against mine. I heard him whisper to me how much he loved me. I was awake, but I didn’t open my eyes.

I’m awake, and I didn’t tell him goodbye. I feel like a monster. Who have I become? I’m wrong for shunning him like that. You don’t do that to people you love. You fight with them, not let them walk out the door.

When the sun rises, I make some coffee, and hop in the shower before I have to wake up Haven for school. I check my phone and see that I missed a call from Mack. I listen to the voicemail, and he sounds so lonely, so regretful, but as I listen I also realize what he means is the truth. This is his last assignment. I got through to him. When he gets home, we’ll be a family. A real family, because this time I’ll answer the question he asks me all the time. I’ll answer; yes, I’ll marry him.

CORRINE ~ PRESENT DAY

I
can’t process. Every word coming from the television is muffled. It’s like I’m listening to it under water. I can barely hear the screams coming from Jocelyn. I can hardly hear the cries of my mother and father. I can hardly hear Owen’s voice saying,
“Oh, my God, no. Please, God, no.”

All I can do is stare at the screen. I can’t process. I can’t process.

The news breaks. Lt. Commander August calls to warn us of a possible bombing where Mack was taken. We pray he’s wrong. The TV tells a different tale.

The man on the screen speaks again. He repeats what made Jocelyn scream and why everyone else around me is crying.

“Sources say that the bombing of a town in the city of Baniyas, on the coast of Syria, produced no survivors. A few dozen citizens were confirmed dead, some bodies were not recovered. Among them was the body of kidnapped war correspondent, MacIntyre Cooper. Cooper was taken by an army ruled by one of the top commanders of Al Qaeda nearly six and a half months ago. Our sympathies go out to his family from all of us at the network. We’ve lost a good man. He will be dearly missed.”

What this means doesn’t even scratch the surface of being dearly missed. The phone rings off the hook. It’s constant. I want someone to shut it off, but I can’t get up from my chair. Not that I could even if I wanted to. All I can think about is Haven. What do I tell her? How do I tell her?

Our baby girl. Mack’s baby girl. Our world.

She will be the only thing that will keep me going. She was the reason I was born. Mack brought her into my life. Life will never be the same. I’ll never be the same, but my will to live will be Haven.

He’ll never see her graduate from high school or college. He won’t see her walk down the aisle. He won’t see her become a mother. He’s going to miss it all.

I made the decision a long time ago that I would devote my life to that girl. I had a choice. I could have just been the friend and helped out when I could. I could have willed myself not to be in love with Mack. I could have met someone, fallen in love with them, and had my own babies. Sometimes, when the heart wants something so badly, when a heart bleeds for another like mine did for Mack, you sacrifice things you could have had.

Owen places his hand on my shoulder. Turning my head methodically, I see he’s crying, but I’m stone.

“Corrine, I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry.” Owen is also under water. I see his mouth moving, and I hear words coming out of it but nothing sounds clear. Owen kneels on the floor in front of my chair and grabs my hands, but I just stare at him. What do I do?

“I think I’m ready for bed now. Can you ask my dad to help me up the steps?” His face is red and confused. I want to go to bed.

“You want to go to bed now? What . . . do you want me to call someone? Anyone? What do you want, Corrine?”

I look into his eyes. They're not the eyes I want to be looking at. Those eyes I’ll never see again.

“Can you ask my dad to help me upstairs, please?” He nods.

Dad comes over and assumes the same position Owen just was in.

“Corrine, sweetie, you want to go to bed?” Daddy is crying. I nod.

“I’m tired, Daddy.”

“Okay, baby.”

Daddy and Owen get me out of my chair. The wailing still goes on. The screams from Jocelyn continue. I want to go to my bed.

“Daddy, is Haven still at the Miller’s house?”

“Yes, Corrine. Do you want me to go get her?”

“No. I’m tired, Daddy.”

I feel Owen and my dad staring at me. I reach my room, and I climb into bed. Clothes on, shoes on, no medicine taken. I don’t care. Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up, and it will all have been a terrible nightmare.

Yes, things will be different tomorrow.

TWO HUNDRED DAYS AGO

W
ork is keeping me quite busy today. I’m hoping to get home before Haven goes to bed. I feel bad that while Mack’s away, I’m working a lot. The last photo shoot I did was complicated. So many problems between re-shoots and my editor not liking about eighty percent of the shots I took. I’m doing my best to do my part on the editing, but this damn headache will not go away. Jocelyn has been a Godsend staying with Haven and me.

I rub my temples as I continue to stare at the screen on my monitor. There’s not enough coffee or headache medicine to make me feel any better.

My phone rings and I pick it up, reluctantly.

I practically moan when I answer.

“Corrine Blanchard.”

“Corrine?”

It’s Mother.

“Ma, I can’t talk now. I have a major deadline and it’s not going smoothly . . .”

Cutting me off she says, “Corrine, are you near a TV?”

She sounds upset.

“No, why? What’s going on?”

“Corrine, turn on the news.” At that moment my assistant Marla runs in.

“Corrine, oh God. Hurry turn to a news channel on your laptop.”

She looks shaken and I’m wondering if there's been another terrorist attack.

Mae yells into the phone, “Do it, Corrine. Please.”

. As soon as I turn my laptop on, I go right to the network Mack works for. On the screen is nothing but Mack’s face.

I drop my phone. I look to Marla, then back to the screen. Scrolling below the anchor at the desk it says:

War correspondent MacIntyre Cooper is being held against his will by Syrians. A video has been released and we are reporting this to you as information becomes available. The tape was sent to our sources in Washington and was made available to us as of three p.m. today.

And I see it.

Two men with masks on. Dressed in black. Two machine guns. Someone kneeling on the floor with a black hood on. Hands tied behind him. Clothes are bloodstained.

The video rolls. I don’t understand what the men in black are saying, but I hear Mack mumble a few words. I can’t make the words out over the men in black. The anchor explains what is being said.

Held until demands are met. Will kill me if demands are not met.

My office is suddenly filled with people saying my name. I hang up on my mother and continue to look at the screen. They take off the hood, and I see him. His beautiful face swollen, bruised, and bloodied. His chin hangs down, and I can’t see his eyes. I want to see his eyes. Why can’t he lift his head? I
need
to see his eyes.

Gasps fill the room. My heart pounds and I vomit in the wastepaper basket next to me when one of the men in black grab the top of his head by the hair and pull it forcefully upwards. His eyes are swollen shut, and his lids protrude out from his face. He’s been beaten.

Mack. They have my Mack.

Haven. I need to get to Haven. I grab my bag and phone and rush out of the building. My focus is to get to my girl and protect her from all the bad.

It’s been a few weeks since the kidnapping. I went to Washington with Jocelyn to talk to someone from the state department. There's not much to be said. We know there is a media blackout on the situation because, to the kidnappers, journalists are worth something. So they play their games and try to make their deals. Still, less media coverage, the better. We’re told it will keep Mack alive. Haven thought I had to go away on a shoot and that Daddy was asked to stay a bit longer where he was for work. Haven is with my parents because Haven’s grandmother, Grace, is out of control. Praying every five seconds, won’t leave her church, and I don’t want Haven to know what’s going on. I talked to her school, the parents of her friends—anyone who has a direct relationship with Haven. My fear is her finding out the truth. So this is where I become the lowest of the low. I lie to my girl, and it kills me to do so, but I’d rather lie than have to explain that bad men have her daddy and they will cut off his head if their demands are not met.