Meant for Her (8 page)

“Don’t you just have to build the rings?”

“It’s not that simple. They have to be aligned on an axle in the right order. There are thirteen factorial possible positions, which means millions of possibilities. That’s the strength of the cipher.”

“What do you do now?”

“I need to find the keyword. It will tell me what order to put the rings onto the axle. It could be a number, or a word or phrase.” She was missing the vast capabilities of the computers that surrounded her when she was at work. “If I had access to my computers, I would write a simple program which tries out all possible combinations, then just wait until it hits on one that makes sense.”

“How long does that take?”

“Hard to say. It depends on how lucky you are, and how many machines you have searching for the right combination simultaneously. Days, weeks, maybe months. It certainly would be a lot easier if I could figure out the combination on my own, in whatever way my father expected me to discover it.” Julie bit down on her lip and looked out the window, unseeing.

Hank pulled into the parking lot of a small white church with a tall four-sided steeple. “This is it.” Steve’s sedan was already in the parking lot.

“Can I use your phone one more time? I’m going to have Becky use my work computers to search for the key.”

“Sure.”

When Hank waited for her to make her call, she looked at him uncomfortably. “I’ll be right in.”

She doesn’t want me to hear her conversation.

Clearly she didn’t trust him, which reminded him of Admiral Barstow and his own deception. If Julie knew who he worked for, he’d be guilty by association.

And what about her? Hank still wasn’t sure if Julie sympathized with her father. She may even have helped him commit espionage, or deleted his Navy records. Was she working to hide important facts right now?

The unpleasant thought stuck with him as he walked to the door of the church and let himself in. The building appeared to be empty, its long wooden pews glistening in the light from the stained glass windows. Hank looked at the simple altar and the cross behind it, and found himself saying a silent prayer.

Please let her be innocent. Please let her trust me.

Chapter 5

Julie put her hands on her hips and surveyed her handiwork. The church basement had been greatly improved, but it was a far cry from “transformed”.

“These lights have to go,” she said.

Raising his head, Hank looked up at the fluorescent fixtures that ran the entire space. “The fluorescents?” he asked, raising his eyebrows high.

“They’re horrible, aren’t they? I feel like I’m shopping in a discount clothing store, not enjoying a winter wonderland with my one true love.”

“Maybe Kelly and Ron are a couple of tree huggers. Maybe they
love
fluorescent lights. Maybe,” he said, raising his index finger, “they’d be angry if you changed them.”

“Just the other day,” said Steve, taking a break from arranging tables, “I heard Kelly talking about how she hoped to be married under LEDs. But if that’s not possible, I’m sure fluorescents are the next best thing.”

“Marriage is all about compromise,” agreed Hank.

Julie rounded on the men. Clearly, they were thick as thieves. “Do you two lunkheads think this is Kelly’s dream? To celebrate her marriage to Ron under lights that give everything the horrible glow of energy efficiency?” she shift her weight onto one hip and crossed her arms. “I think not.”

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “What do you suggest?”

“How about candles?”

“Candles to light the whole space?” He spun around, holding his arms out to his sides. “Do you know how many candles that would take?”

“Is there a DJ coming? He might have some lights for the dance floor,” said Julie.

“I don’t know if there’s a DJ, or a band, or the Boys Choir of Harlem.”

“Who are you calling?”

“My mother,” he said, walking to the far end of the room.

Julie busied herself by decorating the last Christmas tree with red ribbon while she waited.

“There’s a DJ, and he comes with his own light display. Including,” his eyes lit up, “his very own spinning disco ball.”

“Oh, well, you have to have a disco ball to do the Electric Slide.”

“Bingo.”

“All right. The DJ’s lights should illuminate that half of the room fairly well, and the centerpieces each have one candle. We can bump that up to five or six…” her voice trailed off as she surveyed the large basement.

“That’s still a hell of a lot of candles,” said Hank.

“Sounds like a fire hazard,” said Steve.

“Got a better idea?”

Hank snapped his fingers. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Two hours later, Julie finished hanging her last strand of white Christmas lights and stepped back to admire the room. Gone was the drab and depressing basement, and in its place glittered a gorgeous, romantic setting for the beginning of Kelly and Ron’s life together. She also added four more candles to each centerpiece, not wanting to give up her idea completely.

Steve had been summoned back to the house to help deliver food to neighbors’ ovens and refrigerators, and Julie was feeling his absence. He had acted as a buffer, and she wasn’t sure what to do with Hank now that it was just the two of them.

He stood on a step ladder, connecting several strands of the twinkling lights to the center of the ceiling in a spoke-like pattern. Julie watched his beautiful body in silent appreciation, the muscles of his arms and shoulders clearly visible beneath his t-shirt. The gentle light that filled the room flattered him, glorifying his amber skin, and Julie savored the chance to observe him unnoticed.

In a different time and place, she could have cared for this man. She knew it like she knew her own face in the mirror. Julie had been looking for Hank Jared in every man she had ever met, and now she understood why each of them had left her cold and unaffected.

I never knew a man this good could care about me—know every skeleton in my closet and want me anyway.

Hank stepped off the ladder to grab the last string of lights from the floor, climbing again to add it to the bundle. Raising his head, he caught her eye and smiled.

Julie felt her breath hitch in her chest as she stared at him from across the room.  Her gaze spoke volumes that she herself would never give voice to, and she was waiting for his answer as they stared at each other. She knew she should look away, do something else. But that would break the spell, and it was a lovely, intoxicating magic to behold.

Moments slipped by before Hank picked up his tools and completed hanging the last of the lights. Julie didn’t move, knowing he would come to her. They each felt it, and both were powerless to stop it.

Hank stepped down and strode toward her purposefully. He surprised her when he reached out with the gentlest of touches and stroked her face.

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his caress. Hank’s hand went around to the back of her neck, his touch tingling on her skin like the lightest of raindrops. Julie opened her eyes, and seeing the desire she felt mirrored in his eyes, leaned toward him to enjoy the kiss that his talented fingers promised.

He drew her inside the circle of his arms. Their mouths met hungrily as hands skated over each other, exploring.

His beard raked over her smooth skin, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake. She could feel the evidence of how much he wanted her, and reveled in her own power to excite this man.

Someone coughed near the stairway, and the couple sprang apart. Julie turned her back in embarrassment when she saw the man standing there.

“Hank William Jared, I thought I told you not to go kissing girls in my church basement,” he said with a thick Irish brogue. Tall and thin, he had white hair and an athletic build that contrasted with his heavily lined face.

“I must have forgotten,” said Hank, shaking the older man’s hand with a boyish grin. “Father McHale, I’d like you to meet Julie Trueblood. He reached for her arm, spinning her around. Julie, this is Father McHale. He’s the priest who’ll be marrying Kelly and Ron today.”

A priest!

Julie wanted to melt into the concrete floor beneath her and die an invisible death. She heard herself say politely, “It’s nice to meet you, Father.”

To his credit, he didn’t seem at all uncomfortable at having caught them in such a compromising position. “I’m also the priest who heard Hank William’s first confession, when he was just a wee lad. I’m there in the confessional every Saturday, by the way.” He rocked forward and back, with his hands behind him. “Or if you two are serious, perhaps we can have us a double ceremony.” He winked conspiratorially at Julie.

I wish I was dead.

Father McHale looked around at the fully decorated church basement. “I must say, this looks wonderful.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison.

“Oh, and Hank, your mother called. She’d like you to call her back. Seems your cell phone must not get a signal down here.”

“Son of a…” he pulled out his cell phone. “Sorry, Father. I’ve been waiting for an important call.”

“I must be on my way. I have to see about building a roulette wheel for Monte Carlo night,” said the priest. “I’ll see you both at the ceremony.” He walked back up the steps.

“Can I meet you in the parking lot, Julie? I need to see if Chip called.”

“Sure. I’ll be right there.”

By the time she made it to the car, Hank was behind the wheel with the engine running.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“I missed his call.”

“Did he leave a message?”

When he didn’t answer, she thought she was being presumptuous. “It’s none of my business.”

“It is your business.” He backed out of the parking spot. “His wife had the twins. They’re fine, but she hemorrhaged after the birth.”

“Oh, my God.  Is she going to be okay?”

“They’re not sure yet.”

That wasn’t all Chip had said on his message, but it was all Hank was prepared to share.  The rest, he was going to pretend he never heard.

 ~~~

Julie gazed at her reflection in the mirror and bit her lip. The dress was a deep blue silk that clung to her body in the most flattering of places, grazing her hips and cinching in tight under her accentuated breasts. The skirt billowed out around her legs with a feminine flourish, stopping just above her shapely ankles.

While the neckline and hem were modest, the dress was racier that Julie would have liked for a wedding. She vaguely remembered Hank telling her to pack something appropriate, but she was crazy out of her mind after seeing the footprints leading from the barn. She had reached into the closet and grabbed several dresses, figuring one of them would be fine.

She glanced wistfully at the other two outfits that hung in the closet. The first was a safe and boring pink sundress, which would have been perfect if it were June instead of December. The second was a blazer and skirt combination that was far better suited to a funeral or job interview—perhaps a job interview at a funeral parlor—than a celebration of love.

Which left the dress she was wearing. Flaunting might be a better word.

No one will be looking at me anyway, except Hank.

At the thought, she relaxed her shoulders and tried to see herself as Hank would see her. Twirling slightly and smiling at her reflection, Julie’s fears were confirmed. This dress had no business at a wedding. Unless maybe it was worn by the bitter ex-girlfriend of the groom.

There was a soft rap on the door. “May I come in?” asked Gwen.

“Yep.”

Gwen’s mouth dropped open. “You look incredible!”

“I look like a French whore.”

“You most certainly do not.” She grabbed Julie’s arms and held them out to her sides. “You look like a fine and cultured woman, who just happens to have a glorious body.”

Julie felt the first stirrings of pride at Gwen’s assessment. She turned toward the mirror and twisted to see the back of the dress in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Well, it is breathtaking. But Kelly’s a fine-looking young woman and I don’t expect you’ll be stealing the bride’s thunder, so to speak.”

“It wasn’t the bride I was worried about.”

“Ah. Hank.” Gwen gave Julie a conspiratorial smirk. “It might be a bit too much for Hank.”

“I’ll wear the pink one,” Julie said, reaching for the mundane sundress. “Maybe Kelly or Marianne has a sweater I can put over...”

“I said it may be too much for Hank. I didn’t say you should change.”

“I’m not comfortable.”

“On second thought, you’re right. You should change. You wouldn’t want that tall, dark and incredibly sexy man to lust after you.”

Julie slowly turned from the closet, one hand on the pink sundress. “You think he’d lust after me if I wore this?” she asked, looking down at the blue silk number and brushing an imagined piece of lint off its fine surface.

“Definitely.”

“Well,” she said, peeking at herself in the mirror, “he is my boyfriend.”

“You want him to be happy, of course. I just love weddings,” she said wistfully. “Don’t you?”

Julie nodded as she walked to the dresser and began brushing her hair. “I remember your wedding, Gwen. It was beautiful.”

“It was.”

If ever two people complimented each other, it was David and Gwen. They had made a striking couple—she with her curling blonde hair, smooth complexion and soulful blue eyes, he like a sandy-haired Greek god, all muscle and sinew.

“Did I ever tell you how we met?” asked Gwen.

Julie squinted her eyes.  “No, I don’t think so.”

Gwen sat down on the bed. “I was living in New York City. The first time I saw him, he was sitting on an upside-down milk crate in Hell’s Kitchen, holding a cello and a bow. I figured he was a street musician.”

She had a far-away look in her eyes as she continued.  “A red-headed girl was coming toward him from the opposite direction, and she asked him if he was going to play. ‘Not right now,’ he said, and she says, ‘No one will give you money if you just sit there.” Gwen laughed.