Veil of Silence (31 page)

* * * * *

“Can you tell me what they wanted this time?” Heather asked, exasperated.  She’d dealt with all four children while Marsha was on the base and she was feeling the strain.  With summer vacation going on and Hayley home full-time, she really wished she had scheduled her for some activities.  She’d missed many of the deadlines due to Marsha’s return.

Marsha stood in the doorway and smiled at her wife.  She’d gotten it!  She’d waited them out and gotten the rank of lieutenant colonel!  The back pay would help them enormously!  She would have preferred two year’s back pay, but still, she’d gotten it!  The thought of working for Colonel Brenson as his assistant didn’t appeal in the least.  “I got it,” she said quietly over the noise of some game that Hayley and Bahir were playing.  It involved a lot of beeping noises and Marsha thought if she had to listen to it for too long, she just might have to take out the batteries or break it. 

“Got what?” Heather asked as she tried to put a shirt on Amir.  His baby brother had projectile vomited up the formula this time and struck the little boy squarely in the chest.  She was sick of the sour smell of baby vomit already.

“They promoted me.”

“To what?” she looked up as she got the shirt over the little boy’s head.  She saw the smile and pride on Marsha’s face and wondered at it.  Then she saw the different colored epaulettes on her wife’s shoulders.  “You got it?” she smiled in delight.

“Yes, you are looking at Lieutenant Colonel Gagliano,” she announced with a grin.

“Oh, baby,” she let Amir fight with the arms of the shirt by himself as she got up to give her wife a hug.  “Congratulations,” she whispered as she gave her a kiss.

“I just need to do one thing,” she cautioned her as she hugged her tightly.

Hearing the note of trepidation in her wife’s voice, Heather pulled back warily.  She instantly worried that they wanted her to go back to Afghanistan.  She waited anxiously for her wife to explain herself.

“I have to go see my mother,” she confessed.

“Your mother?”

Marsha nodded, looking resigned.  “Apparently she gave an interview.”

“Oh, no,” Heather worried at what it could be.

“Yeah, I guess she slipped by Dad.”

“How did we miss that?”

“So far, it’s only a local station from what I understand.  I’m to head off any others.”

Heather nodded.  “Maybe you could call it in?” she asked hopefully.

Marsha laughed.  “Yes, but that would be chicken.  I’ll go call and tell them I’ll be there tomorrow so they aren’t out or something.”

“You will do that after you’ve changed and gotten something to eat,” her wife ordered.

Marsha was feeling so good, she squeezed Heather tighter for a fraction of an instant before releasing her.  Amir was squawking about only getting his head through the shirt and trying to get his hands through the sleeves all by himself.  She watched as her wife went to quiet him.  She smiled.  Life was good.

* * * * *

Calling her parents’ home, she felt so good about her promotion that she wasn’t going to let her mother and her need for attention stand in her way.  She would emphasize it in a way that she would understand…threaten her if necessary.  She’d make sure the woman finally understood that being in the army meant discretion.  She was proud to serve.  What had happened to her, while tragic, didn’t mean her mother could capitalize on it for some sort of fame.

The phone rang long enough that it went to the answering machine.

‘Hello, you have reached the Gagliano residence.  At the tone, please leave your message,’ her mother’s voice intoned cheerfully.  The phone beeped.

“Hi, Mom, Dad.  It’s me, Marsha.  Hey, I’m going to be in your neighborhood tomorrow and was wondering if you would mind me stopping by for lunch.”  ‘Their neighborhood’ meant she would have to drive across Chicago, partly around the lake, through the tip of Indiana, and into the lower part of Michigan where her parents lived.  “I hope you get this before…” the phone was unceremoniously picked up.  “Mom?  Is that you?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was not her mother…it was not her father…it wasn’t even English.  The voice, one she had never thought to hear again in this lifetime, was Afghan in origin and speaking Tajik.  “Mahsa, you will come to me now and you will bring my children.  If you do not, I will kill your parents,” Zabi told her in no uncertain terms.

Marsha was stunned.  She was shocked into silence, her heart beating a mile a minute.  The voice was so ominous, so threatening.  She wanted to hastily obey, but then she realized she was on American soil and he had no rights here.  How had he found…and then she remembered the interview her mother had given.  No one had noticed Lieutenant Marsha Gagliano’s return, no one, until her mother bragged about it on television.  While it had allowed her to obtain her latest promotion, it had also led her children’s father to them.  She realized that since family units stayed together in Afghanistan, Zabi would assume she was living with her parents, that her children would be with her there.

“Mahsa, you hear me?” he asked angrily.  Patience hadn’t been one of his virtues.

“I hear you,” she answered back in Tajik.

“Then I will expect you and my children shortly.  I understand I have another son,” he crowed.  Marsha ground her teeth at that. 

“It will take time,” she tried to tell him.

“Your parents informed my brother that you live several hours away.  I will expect you then,” and with that he hung up.  Marsha stared at the receiver for several minutes until the incessant and increasingly loud beeping told her to hang it up.

“Did you get hold of your mother?” Heather asked cheerfully as she came up from the basement with a load of laundry to fold.

“Um, yes,” she nodded, coming back down to Earth as she realized Heather was speaking English.  She smiled.  It was a fake smile, but Heather thought that was because of the conversation with her mother, who could be so trying.  That woman was not easy.

Marsha watched as Heather took the laundry into the living room to fold.  She knew she would also pick up toys and put them into the baskets they kept around for the kids.  She glanced in the living room and saw that was indeed what her wife was doing.  She continued to walk down the hall.  She saw the night light on in the children’s room.  The bunk beds had worked out perfectly.  Amir was asleep on the trundle bed, Bahir above him on the lower bunk, and Hayley on the upper bunk, well fenced-in by the netting Marsha had added as a safety precaution.  She looked at her children for a moment before walking into the master bedroom.  She stared down at Liam for a moment.  He was sucking air with his little lips pursing and unpursing.  Probably dreaming of a nipple where food came so readily.

She started to change her clothes.

Heather walked in with a laundry basket with half of the clothes in it.  She had more children’s clothes to fold and wash, but for a change there was some for her and Marsha.  If she put it away right away, it wouldn’t build up.  She was startled to see Marsha cleaning a gun on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.  She hadn’t even known that Marsha had a gun in the house.  She thought she had taken all of that gear with her to Afghanistan so long ago.

Marsha looked up.  She was wearing her ACUs or green battle fatigues instead of the tan ones she had worn in Afghanistan.  She only had her t-shirt on for the moment as she cleaned the gun she requisitioned so long ago.  She had never thought she would actually need it.  “I have something to tell you,” she began and then watched as Heather dropped the laundry basket in the doorway, the clothes spilling out.  The noise of it caused the baby to snort slightly, but he had a full tummy, was warm and dry, and wouldn’t waken until he was hungry again or wet.

Marsha saw the frightened look that came onto her wife’s face.  She was sorry for it, but she had to tell her the truth in case something happened this evening.  “A few months ago, after they let me know that I was cleared of any wrongdoing and Lance called me back in, do you remember that?”  She finished cleaning the gun, put it back together in record time, and put the full clip in the receiver—the handle of the gun—chambering a round before slipping on the safety and putting it in her holster.  She looked up as she asked the question.

Heather nodded as she leaned against the open door and slid down it.  She knew she wasn’t going to like what her wife was about to tell her.  She watched as Marsha picked up her shirt and, putting it on, began to button it.

“The reason he called me in was that Zabi had petitioned through the Afghan government.  He wanted his children back.”

Heather’s eyes widened at that.  “You’re not going to give him our…” she began, but Marsha put up her hand to stop her.  She didn’t have a lot of time.

“Of course not.  We ignored the request.  I even joked with Captain McKellan about having him eliminated, but we ignored it.  We thought if he never got a response he would give up.”

Heather nodded to show she was following along.

“Since it’s been months, I thought he’d either try again through official channels or give up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t want to upset you.  It was right after Liam was born and I just didn’t want to upset things.”

Heather was annoyed at her wife for protecting her in that way, but that didn’t explain the gun.  “I take it things have changed?”

“When I called my parents, it wasn’t my mother that answered,” she started to explain.

“Your father…?”

Marsha shook her head.  “After hearing me leaving a message on the answering machine, the most unexpected voice came over the phone…it was Zabi.”  She waited for the name to sink in for a moment.  “He told me if I didn’t bring his children to him, he was going to kill my parents.”

“Why don’t you let the professionals handle this?  Report it!” she pleaded, knowing her wife would handle this the way she saw fit.

“Because I have to.  Don’t you understand?  I have to!  That bastard raped me, over and over again until I thought I’d go mad.  I only kept it together for the sake of the children, for the hope that someday I might be able to escape him, that I might get my children out of his clutches.  I have to do this,” she pleaded in return.

Heather stared at her wife.  This was not the calm, cool, and collected Marsha she had come to know.  The woman before her had hidden demons that the SERE psychologists hadn’t even begun to fathom.  The look in Marsha’s eyes was near madness.  Heather wasn’t so sure
she
shouldn’t be afraid.  She nodded to show she understood, but was hoping that Marsha would get out of the house.  She needed this madwoman out of her house.

“I know this is crazy,” she said, unknowingly echoing her wife’s thoughts.  “This has to be me.  I know you will probably call the base or Lance McKellan or the psychologists…but give me a head start.  An hour, that’s all I ask.  Give me an hour to get there and see what I can find out.”

“It takes at least three or four hours to get to your parents’ house,” she pointed out, remembering the worry of driving The Wreck that distance for Hayley’s visits.  She had finally asked that they come to get the little girl, annoying MaryBeth further at the inconvenience.

“Then give me those hours to get there and see what I can find out.”

“And what if Zabi is there?”

“He is.  He answered the phone.”

“And then what?  You kill him?”

“If I have to,” she promised.  “If I can take him as a prisoner, I hope the army puts him in a cell and throws away the key.  He isn’t alone,” she cautioned.  “He mentioned his brother is with him, probably because he speaks some English.”

“Zabi didn’t speak English?”

Marsha shook her head as she finished her dressing.  “No, he felt it was beneath him.  His brother, however, dealt with many…” she paused for a moment as a memory slid into place, something she hadn’t been able to grasp before.

“What?  What is it?” Heather asked, seeing the bemused look momentarily on her wife’s face.

“I just remembered something,” she said in awe as the memory began to become clearer.

“What is it?”

Marsha shook her head.  “It’s not important to this.  Please, will you wait to call the troops until I have a chance to check on my parents?”

“You said Zabi answered the phone.  So he has them?”

Marsha nodded, looking at her wife hopefully.

“Okay, I’ll give you six hours.  That’s enough to get there through Chicago traffic and look around…but no more.”  She rose from her sitting position on the floor.  “I need you to come back to us.  I can’t raise these children without you,” she pleaded, trying to get Marsha to see through the haze of revenge.

Marsha nodded once, walked into Heather’s space, and hugged her.  They were both very aware of the loaded gun on her hip.  She pulled back to look into those cornflower blue eyes.  “I love you, Heather Gagliano,” she said emphatically, feeling it right down to her toes.

“I love you, Marsha Gagliano.  Don’t disappoint me,” she mockingly threatened.