A Dime a Dozen Read online

  Of course, once my relationship with Tom had evolved into the personal arena, the most amazing part to me was that he continued to be supportive of my relationship with my former in-laws. The fact that he was now authorizing me to go to Greenbriar with the goal of approving them for a million dollars for their charity truly showed the kind of man he was. When I thought of Tom’s character, I thought of integrity, compassion, generosity—and not just generosity with his money, but generosity with his heart as well. In short, Tom was willing to make room for my married past in our new relationship. That, as much as anything, had contributed significantly to my own healing process.

  Closing my eyes, I remembered back four months before to the first and last time Tom and I had been together. After having a telephoneonly relationship for so long, that moment of seeing each other face-to-face had taken on such importance that there was almost no way it could ever have lived up to either of our expectations.

  And yet it had. In every way it had, and more. It began the afternoon when I went out for a canoe ride on the branch of the Chesapeake Bay that ran behind my house on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. A difficult investigation had landed me in the hospital for a few days, and though I was home by then, it was my first time back out in the canoe, back out on the water. With my trusty Maltese, Sal, in the bow of the vessel, I had used the opportunity of the late afternoon paddle to clear my head, to pray, and to close up some loose ends in my mind. Then my cell phone rang in my pocket, and I answered it, glad to find that it was Tom. My face had broken into a smile, thinking that in the entire world, his was the only voice I had felt like hearing right then on the other end of the line. I thought he was calling me from Singapore.

  We had talked for a bit, his voice etched with concern for my injuries. I hadn’t wanted to worry him, so I hadn’t told him how hurt I had been or that I had spent time in the hospital. But, in following up with his contacts about my investigation, Tom had found out anyway. Thinking that his call was merely an attempt to fuss at me for not being completely honest with him—and, of course, to make sure I was okay—it never crossed my mind that he had flown back to the States the moment he had heard about my injuries, and that, in fact, he was calling me from my very own property!

  Floating with the current, I had slowly rounded that final bend toward home, and in the gathering darkness saw that someone was standing on my dock. I thought back to that moment now, the memory of it as alive and real as if it had happened yesterday.

  Distracted, I asked Tom to hold on while I brought the boat in, telling him I needed both hands free. I carefully set the phone in my lap and paddled quickly, guiding the canoe toward the landing.

  At first I thought it was my friend Kirby standing there waiting for me. But as I drew closer, I realized that it wasn’t Kirby after all. This man was just as handsome, but he was taller, with dark hair and broad shoulders.

  “Hang on another minute, Tom,” I said, picking up the phone and speaking into it. “I’m just home, and somebody’s here at the dock.”

  I set the phone by my feet, coasted in, and then climbed from the boat, pulling it onto the shore. As I tied off the rope, Sal jumped out and ran to the man, sniffing at the cuffs of his tailored slacks.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, grabbing the phone from the bottom of the canoe and holding it at my side.

  The man didn’t reply for a moment, but when he did, it was to say my name, his tone deep and instantly familiar.

  “Callie,” he said, looking down at my phone and then back at my face. “It’s me.”

  It wasn’t until that moment that I noticed the cell phone in his hand as well. He pressed the button to disconnect it, and then he took a step toward me on the dock. As he did, I saw that on the front of his suit jacket, peeking out from under his coat, was a big red mum—the sign Tom and I had already agreed to use for identifying each other in a crowd.

  I gasped, air rushing to fill my lungs. Tom stepped toward me again, but I backed away.

  “You’re in Singapore,” I said, shaking my head, trying to align reality with what I was seeing and hearing. I held my phone to my ear, but the line had been disconnected. As I fumbled to turn it off, tears sprang unexpectedly into my eyes.

  “No, I’m not. I needed to be here with you,” he replied gently. “Business in Singapore can wait.”

  I swallowed hard, my heart pounding, my voice caught somewhere in my throat. I didn’t trust myself to speak, didn’t trust myself to do anything but stand there and gaze at him, trying to match the voice of the man I knew so well with this handsome stranger. Finally, I dropped my phone onto the grass and took a tentative step toward him.

  That’s all he needed. A smile teasing at his lips, he crossed the wooden slats of the dock, walking until he stood on the grass in front of me. He reached out and put one warm hand on my arm. I looked up at him, searching for the person I knew inside, thinking that even if I didn’t recognize his face, the man behind those beautiful eyes was already my very best friend in the world. I smiled, and then I whispered his name.

  “Tom.”

  He studied my eyes as well, and then he whispered back to me.

  “Callie.”

  After a long pause, we both finally grinned—and then we laughed out loud! We threw our arms around each other, laughing, holding on to each other in a hug that lasted a long, long time. Somehow, it hadn’t seemed right yet to share a kiss. But I would remember that hug for the rest of my life. That hug was the transition for me between a fantasy voice on the other end of a distant telephone line and a true flesh and blood man I really could hold on to, who really did exist.

  After that, it hadn’t mattered what we did next. We were together, finally, and that’s what was important. Looking back, that entire evening was a blur. At some point, Tom had knelt down to retrieve my phone and get acquainted with Sal, and then we had gone inside my house, where we built a fire and shared some tea and started talking, the way we always talked but in person this time. Tom had asked me to recount my entire investigation, particularly the part when I had been kidnapped at gunpoint and then later nearly killed. He seemed devastated for my sake that I’d had to cut my long hair off to get loose from an underwater trap. But he couldn’t stop gazing at me or remarking at how different I looked from my photos and from the one other time he had glimpsed me in person.

  “I know you’re probably sad about losing your long hair, but I think this new style suits you perfectly,” he pronounced finally. “In fact, I would venture to say that you are even more beautiful now than you were before.”

  At that moment, we weren’t sitting that far apart on the couch, and I thought then that he might kiss me. But he merely held my gaze, his smoldering look telling me there was much going on under the surface, far beyond a simple conversation in front of a crackling fire.

  Around midnight we raided my kitchen, suddenly ravenous, making an impromptu dinner of leftovers that we ate at the table while Sal nosed around outside in the dark. Through the entire night, conversation flowed as effortlessly as if we had always done this, as if there were nothing strange at all about Callie and Tom sitting together and chatting and laughing and even occasionally holding hands. There was no nervousness, either, or even a moment of feeling uncomfortable. We grew punchy but not tired, and I came to recognize certain gestures of his that I thought I might already be quite fond of. The hand that chopped at the air when he wanted to make a point. The way he tipped his head to one side when he was teasing.

  Truth be told, if I had suddenly looked up and found myself in Oz, I wouldn’t have been surprised. The night was that magical, that ethereal, that far removed from any experience I had ever had.

  In person, Tom was everything I had ever imagined and more. Handsome in a way that made my heart pound. Sweet and funny and smart— and surprisingly genteel in his manners, much like the men I had grown up with in Virginia. When I finally commented on that, he reminded me that he was a Louisiana boy, born and bred, and
that in Louisiana gentlemen also did things like holding out chairs and opening doors for ladies. Goodness, I thought I might swoon!

  Best of all was deep in the night when, back in front of the fire, Tom shared his testimony with me, how he had come to know the Lord at a youth rally at the age of 21, and how nothing had ever been the same since. His grasp of the Scriptures seemed to be knowledgeable and true, and as he talked I could tell that he was a man of deep faith.

  I was happy to learn his last name, which was Bennett, but there was still a lot he wouldn’t really discuss regarding the work he did beyond the J.O.S.H.U.A. Foundation. I knew he dealt with the government and that much of his work was classified, but it still confused me, for I didn’t even know the name of his company, and when I asked, he simply put a finger to my lips and told me he wasn’t free to talk about it. I let it go and decided that that and other answers would come in time. At least he was here. He was real.

  He was wonderful.

  As the sun came up, we pulled on our coats and walked down to my dock, a sudden quiet descending upon us in the early morning chill. He had to go, had to head back to Singapore and the work that would keep him there for several more months. I thought my heart would burst with the conflicting emotions I was feeling: an absolute elation and yet also an utter sadness. He seemed to feel the same.

  “I have to leave,” he said mournfully, slipping his hand into mine. We were side by side at the edge of the water, looking out at the gentle flow of the morning tide. He still hadn’t kissed me, and my mouth nearly ached with the desires of my heart.

  “There’re two things I want to do before I go,” he said softly. I looked at him, pulse pounding. “First, I think we should pray together.”

  Emotion surged through me. How blessed I was to have fallen for a man of faith! In a way, I had always felt that prayer was one of the most intimate things a couple could do. Now here he was, asking to join hands with me in the presence of the Lord.

  I nodded and he turned toward me, taking both of my hands in his. Then we bowed our heads, and he spoke softly on our behalf.

  “Lord,” he prayed, “we thank You for this precious time together. I thank You for Callie, for her gentle spirit, for the work she does, for the love and kindness that radiates from her like a light. Father, I ask that You will keep Your loving hand on both of us as we go our separate ways, and, if it be Your will, to bring us back together again in Your timing. Give me a safe flight, Lord, and continue to provide healing for Callie’s wounds in the days ahead. Thank You for the gift of Your presence and the death and resurrection of Your Son. In all of these things, we give thanks. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen,” I echoed.

  Still holding hands, we stood there and looked into each others eyes.

  “Why,” he asked softly, “is getting in that car and driving back to the airport one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do?”

  I didn’t answer right away but merely looked at him. Finally, I spoke.

  “You know why,” I said, my heart thudding with my own boldness. He squeezed my hands, nodding slowly.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know why.”

  In the distance, I could hear the muted trill of an early morning fishing trawler. Closer by was the sound of water lapping at the dock, of Sal scuttering through the leaves at our feet.

  “What’s the second thing?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You said there were two things you wanted to do before you go. What’s the second thing?”

  I knew what it was. I knew it as surely as I knew this man was standing here in front of me.

  “To kiss you,” he said. “May I?”

  Unable to speak, I simply nodded.

  Our lips met slowly, sweetly, and then we were joined in a deep, long kiss that seemed to go on forever. My mind was transported away to some other place, to some other time, to some point where conscious thought and reason no longer existed. Behind my closed eyes flashed colors and lights and images too unreal to find focus. Kissing Tom was like going to the very limits of a place I hadn’t ever gone before, like perching on the end of a high dive or holding to the edge of a cliff.

  When the kiss ended, I pressed myself against him, wishing the world would simply stop and we could get off together and steal away more time, more time, more time.

  “Ah, Callie,” he whispered, his lips at my ear. “I…”

  I thought he was going to say “I love you.” Maybe he wanted to, maybe he was. But instead, after a long pause, he pulled away just a few inches and said, “I…I have to go.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and though my heart still clung to him, with my arms I released him. He could see me crying, and he wiped away a tear from my cheek. When I looked up at him, I saw there were tears in his eyes as well.

  “This time will fly,” he said wistfully. “I promise.”

  I nodded, swallowing hard. Holding on to his arm, I walked with him to his car.

  “Have we caused a scandal, do you think?” he asked, pulling out the keys to his rental. “Theoretically, I did spend the night.”

  I shook my head.

  “If I lived in town, absolutely,” I said. “But out here, no one sees anything. It’s all very private.”

  He nodded.

  “Then I guess it would be okay for me to kiss you again,” he said.

  There, beside the car, he swept me into his arms and gave me another kiss that would blaze into my mind, another kiss that I would relive again and again as I thought about him and that whole magical night in the months ahead.

  As he drove away into the morning mist, I thought I could very well die right at that moment and find heaven no more perfect than what I was feeling here on earth.

  Now, as I sat at the airport on my way to the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina, I knew that in seven days he would be with me again.

  I knew this would be the longest seven days of my life.

  My cell phone rang, so startling me from my thoughts that I pressed the button to answer without first checking the screen.

  “Callie Webber,” I said.

  “Did I wake you?”

  It was Tom, his voice deep and familiar, his tone intimate despite the fact that he was thousands of miles away in Singapore. I smiled, feeling myself relax at the very thought of him on the other end of the line.

  “Nope,” I said. “I’m at the airport, waiting for my flight to North Carolina. I’m so glad you called.”

  “I’m glad I was able to reach you before you left. I tried calling this morning—well, last night where you are—but we’ve had more trouble with the line. This is the first time I’ve been able to get through all day.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I was gone most of the evening. Once I got back to the hotel, I went straight to bed.”

  “Big night out on the town?” he teased.

  “Oh, sure,” I replied. “Three hours at the police station followed by two hours of church. I ought to be ashamed of myself.”

  He laughed.

  “Ah, yes, the police station. So tell me all about the big sting.”

  Picking up my carry-on, I stood and walked to an empty area where I could talk without being overheard. Tom and I always talked at the conclusion of a case, and he liked to hear every detail. This time was no exception.

  “The whole event went off like clockwork,” I said softly, launching into the tale of the party and all that had taken place there. I told Tom about everything, ending with my conversation back at Clement’s house and my presentation of the check from the foundation. “I wish you could’ve seen Clement’s face when he saw that money. He told me that he’d been praying for something like that for almost twenty years.”

  “So once again you’ve been instrumental in providing an answer to prayer.”

  “It’s your money, Tom.”

  “That’s why we make the perfect team, Callie.”

  I smiled, playing with the strap of my watch.
We did make a good team, in every sense of the word.

  “Only seven more days,” he said softly, as though he could read my mind.

  “I know.”

  I held the phone close, glad he couldn’t hear the pounding of my heart.

  “Are you okay about going to North Carolina?” he asked. “Any worries?”

  “Maybe just a few,” I told him. “A part of me can’t wait to see the Webbers again. Another part of me would like to jump on a plane heading in the opposite direction.”

  He sighed.

  “In that case, you might end up here in Singapore. I like the sound of that.”

  “Hey, listen, if you weren’t coming home in exactly one week, I just might do it.”

  I bit my lip. More than once in the past few months I had entertained the notion of simply popping up in Singapore and surprising him the same way he had surprised me last fall by showing up at my house, out of the blue, when I thought he was thousands of miles away. But that was impractical, not to mention expensive, and I knew that his job there was keeping him much too busy to do anything more than work and sleep. That was another reason that he was looking forward to our reunion: He hoped to spend at least a week, maybe two, simply relaxing with me and recovering from the grind of the last four months.

  “Well, at least you’re flying to North Carolina,” he said. “I talked to Harriet yesterday, and she was getting ready to drive there. I told her she was nuts.”

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” I scolded, laughing. “She’s scared to death of airplanes, you know.”

  “Yeah, she told me. Let’s just hope I don’t ever need to send her overseas. I’d hate to see her have to paddle her way to an assignment!”