Vengeance

89 FAYETTEVILLE, IOWA

It was a clear blue day with the temperature in the mid-seventies as Jake Harrison sped down Interstate 80 in his airport-rented sedan. As the car slowed for the exit to Fayetteville, where he, Mixell, and Christine had grown up, his thoughts raced ahead to his pending meeting with anticipation and dread.

Now that the threat from Mixell had been eliminated, protecting Maddy in a gated and guarded condominium complex was no longer required, and Maddy had accompanied her grandparents when they returned to their summer home in Iowa. Harrison had agreed that Fayetteville would be a nice place for Maddy to spend the next few weeks until he figured out where they should move. There was no way they could return to their house in Silverdale, Washington, where Maddy’s mother had been slain in the dining room, her blood staining the wood floor.

After Christine had received confirmation that her wounds were healing well and that there were no complications, she had also decided to return to Fayetteville. However, her mom and dad had passed away years ago and the house she had grown up in was now owned by the Andersons, so Christine had asked Harrison’s parents if she could stay with them. She had asked that they not reveal this to Jake, at least for a while, but Maddy hadn’t received the memo and had mentioned to her dad one night on the phone how much she was enjoying spending time with Christine.

Harrison had been surprised when he learned that Christine had asked to stay with his parents, but upon reflection, it made sense. Other than the home she grew up in, Christine had spent more time at Harrison’s house and farm, by far, than anywhere else in Fayetteville. The barn behind the house, especially, held fond memories. He and Christine had often spent time in the loft when they were kids, talking as their feet hung over the edge of the opening overlooking the farms in the distance. After they began dating, they had sometimes escaped to the loft to do more than talk.

He recalled the first time he had planned to ask Christine to be his girlfriend. They had been sitting at the edge of the loft, their feet dangling over the edge as usual, and as they talked, he had placed his hand on hers, attempting to hold her hand. But Christine had misinterpreted his action and moved her hand to the side to make room for his. He could still remember the crestfallen feeling that had swept over him when he concluded that she had rejected him.

They had eventually sorted things out and started dating, and only later did Harrison learn that Christine had been clueless that day in the loft. Although Harrison’s thoughts had turned romantic once they were teenagers, she was still in friend mode and hadn’t understood what he was doing when he tried to hold her hand.

Harrison spotted his house in the distance and soon pulled into the driveway, past a black SUV parked alongside the curb. He wondered who the vehicle belonged to, then realized that Christine would have protective agents with her in Fayetteville.

He entered his childhood home, greeted first by his mom, then by Maddy, who came running down the hallway and jumped into his arms. He held her for a long moment; she was so much like her mother, exhibiting almost unbridled exuberance.

After learning that his dad was out running errands, Harrison sat down at the breakfast table, catching up with his mom and Maddy. His daughter filled him in on the new friends she had made in the neighborhood and that she had made plans to get together with one of them this afternoon. It wasn’t long before she had to head over to her friend’s house, and she hugged and kissed her dad goodbye.

Once Maddy departed, the conversation turned to Christine.

“How is she doing?” he asked.

“She’s in relatively good spirits, it seems,” Nadia replied. “But it’s hard to know, sometimes, what people are really thinking and feeling.”

“Where is she?”

“In the barn.”

“Has she said anything about my request to meet with her?”

Nadia shook her head.

“Well, then,” he replied, “we’ll see how things go.”

Nadia hugged him as he stood. “Good luck.”

He left the house via the back door, immediately spotting a pair of protective agents at the barn’s entrance. They apparently knew who he was, because neither man challenged him as he entered the barn. Christine wasn’t anywhere on the main floor, so he climbed onto the second level. At the far end of the loft, Christine sat at an opening looking out across the farmland, her legs dangling over the side.

She must have heard him climb onto the loft, because she glanced over her shoulder, then slid to the left, clearing a spot for him to join her. Harrison would have preferred to sit on her left instead of right side, avoiding the matter of her injury if possible, but Christine either hadn’t thought about it or perhaps didn’t care.

Harrison sat beside her. There was a narrow white bandage about one inch wide on the right side of her face, running from the base of her jaw to just under her eye, covering the wound as it healed. She had been advised to keep it protected from direct sunlight for the first year, since the sun’s ultraviolet rays could cause extra collagen to be produced as the wound healed, resulting in a thicker and darker scar.

While the bandage had no effect on her appearance as far as Harrison was concerned, Christine looked quite different compared to the last time he had seen her. She had lost a good deal of weight; with the injury to her facial muscles, it must have been painful to eat.

“Chris, I’d like to talk with you,” he began slowly, “but if you’d rather be alone…”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I’ve been alone with my thoughts for the last few weeks, and I could use the company.” Her words were somewhat stilted, but not as much as he had expected.

She gazed across the farmland in the distance, and Harrison joined her.

“It feels good to be back in Fayetteville,” she said. “It brings back memories of when things were simpler and more carefree. Before we carried the weight of the world, it seems, on our shoulders. I even miss the mean tricks your brothers and the other boys played on me on occasion.”

“Well, you were the only girl in the gang, and some of the boys wanted it to remain a boys-only club. In their minds, it was your periodic participation fee.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I kinda figured that out, and I didn’t really mind. I do have one regret, though. I always wanted a cool nickname, but you guys refused to give me one. I made up a few imaginary ones for myself over the years, but I’m thinking — I’ve got the perfect nickname now. How about… Scarface?”

“That is so not funny,” Harrison replied.

Christine tried to laugh, but the sound came out distorted. The muscles in her face hadn’t fully healed.

There was a long silence, and Harrison sensed Christine’s mood turning serious.

“Your parents said you wanted to talk with me, and I’m sure it wasn’t just to reminisce about our childhood. We’ve both had a lot of time to think about things, so why don’t we get started?” She turned to him. “I’ll go first.”

She fell silent for a moment, and Harrison sensed the emotion gathering in her chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you,” she finally said. “Angie’s death, Maddy’s injury, and Mixell almost killing you twice. You were right — all of it was my fault, dragging you into the effort to track Mixell down when it wasn’t essential. I risked Angie and Maddy — and you — because of my selfish desires. You said you didn’t want to have anything further to do with me, and I don’t blame you.”

She turned away, staring into the distance, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Harrison was stunned by her last sentence. How could she possibly believe he didn’t want anything more to do with her? Then he realized that they hadn’t spoken since Easter Sunday on the phone, when he had warned her about Mixell’s C-4 egg plot. When Christine’s life had hung in the balance in the Alexandria warehouse later that evening, he had been forced to confront his conflicting emotions, and everything had changed.

He wasn’t sure where to begin. His feelings for her ran far deeper than he could ever express, driven by more than physical attraction. He had buried those feelings during his marriage to Angie, and now that they had resurfaced, they were stronger than they had ever been. As he sat beside her in the loft, he realized that Christine was simply an incredible woman, and nothing that had happened in the past would change that.

“I don’t blame you anymore,” he said. “You got caught up in a chain of events that I started when I turned Mixell in. I still think it was the right thing to do, but the events that followed were the result of my actions. Both of us made decisions that had unforeseen and horrific consequences. But we both did what we thought was right at the time, and that’s the best I can ask of myself and of you.”

Harrison placed his hand atop hers, and she let him curl his fingers under her palm and hold her hand tightly. When she turned to face him, moisture glistened in her slate blue eyes.

He recalled the time, in this very spot, when he had tried to hold her hand, but she had moved hers away. Had he been successful, he was going to try and kiss her.

He leaned toward Christine, stopping a few inches from her face. “Will it hurt if we kissed?”

She smiled and caressed the side of his face with her hand. “There’s one way to find out.”

Then she closed the remaining distance.