A/N the first: Have you grown tired of me saying how much I appreciate all of you? How much I enjoy reading your reviews, seeing your alerts, receiving your tweets? If you have, then skip the rest of this paragraph because I'm going to say once again, "Thank you" and "I'm honored." If I haven't responded to you personally, please know that I am grateful for each and every response I receive. And please, keep them coming.
Thank you to AgentInWaiting woh continues to werk his majik. (He doesn't beta the A/Ns. Kin yew tel?) Seriously, each and every chapter would be riddled with typos, mistakes, sketchy grammar and half-baked ideas if it weren't for him. So as always, I say, "Thank you."
Finally, thank you to every firefighter who bravely puts his or her life on the line to save lives and property. They are true heroes.
Chapter 11 – Eyes to the Skies
Sarah swayed in the back of a cargo plane as it bounced and dipped in the turbulence. On her knees with her hands tied behind her, she worked to keep her balance every time the plane was tossed about. Surrounding her, the three large, white tanks labeled "Tom," "Dick" and "Harry" were filled with a thick, rust colored liquid. Each drop and shudder of the airplane caused the concoctions to slosh up the sides of the sizable vats. Her eyes darted about frantically as she tried to figure out a way to get her hands untied. She needed to subdue the pilot, take over the plane and fly to freedom. Twisting and contorting, she managed to get to her feet. When she looked out the plane's windshield, it didn't fill her with a sense of hope. For beyond the windshield, the world was nothing but a wall of grey. There was a single pilot at the plane's controls with a shiny black helmet sitting on his broad, cape-covered shoulders. A gasp escaped when he turned and stared at her with vacant, goggle-like eyes.
Behind her she heard a kkkssssshh, vwooom, vwooom. She twisted and saw Chuck in a fireman's jacket wielding a green lightsaber. "Hi, honey," was all he said.
Music filled the cabin of the plane. Is that the Imperial March? What is going…" Sarah jerked her head up, her eyes still closed and her brain muddled from the strange dream. It took another ten seconds before she realized it was her phone filling Casey's living room with music.
During the night, she and Chuck had shifted slightly as they settled into the sofa. Reclining, the upper half of his body was wedged into the corner and his long legs hung off the side. Sarah, draped across him, was using his chest as a pillow. She shifted off of him slightly and reached out toward the sound. Groping around the floor, her fingers brushed against the phone. Fumbling to pick it up, she dropped it once before she secured and retrieved it.
She put her other forearm across Chuck's chest and levered herself up. Her face was inches from his when he lifted his head and gazed at her with confused, sleepy eyes. He blinked at her a couple of times and then his head dropped back against the top of the couch. God, he's adorable.
Clearing her throat, she attempted to dislodge the coating left there by hours of sleep and answered the call. "Good morning, Director," she said, her voice still raspy despite her efforts.
Without preamble, the director began, "General Beckman and I are currently meeting regarding Major Casey's involvement in your trip to Europe. She was aware from news reports that there is a fire in your area. When I mentioned that you and your family had been evacuated from your home, she wanted to call and get a sitrep."
General Beckman chimed in, "How are you all faring, Agent Walker?"
"So far, we're doing okay, ma'am. Thank you for asking," she answered quietly. "We spent the night at Major Casey's condo. It's crowded, but overall, we're fine."
A rustling noise from the other end of the couch caused Sarah to glance over her shoulder. Curtis, using his sweatshirt as a pillow, rolled over and heaved a sigh. Lizzie was curled up in the same chair she had watched the movie in. When Sarah looked toward the recliner, she was not surprised to see Fred, flat on his back, sound asleep.
"I'm glad you're all okay," Beckman said. "Are you safe? Do you and the family need to be extracted? We can order a chopper and have you evacuated anywhere you choose to go. Cheyenne Mountain isn't too far away and one of the most secure facilities in the country."
"Thank you, General, that's very considerate of you, but I don't believe that's necessary. We have no reason to believe the fire is anything other than an act of nature. And our security detail is still in place."
"Have you heard anything about the condition of your house?" the other woman asked.
Sarah sighed. "No, unfortunately, we don't know anything."
The conversation fell silent, and Sarah wondered if the call had been dropped. "Agent Walker—Sarah—I'll make some calls on your behalf. I have some ideas as to how we can get you some information on your house."
"Really? You'd do that for us?"
"Of course," Beckman replied without hesitation. "You, your husband and family are great assets to this country. You deserve to have someone looking out for you. What's the good of being a general if I can't use my rank once in awhile? I can certainly pull some strings and see what we can find out."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'm touched… and grateful," Sarah said, her voice thick with emotion.
"I'll get back to you as soon as I know anything. It might take some time, however. Until then, stay safe."
"Thank you, ma'am. We will."
"And Agent Walker, be sure to forward to us the itinerary for your trip as soon as you get it," Director Graham ordered.
Sarah wanted to snap that she had more important things to worry about. Instead, she said, "Yes, sir. As soon as we get it."
"Very well," the director said and clicked off.
Always the charmer. She tapped the screen to end the call and glanced at the time on her phone. It was six-fifteen. She groaned and dropped her head back down to Chuck's chest. He was pretty comfortable to sleep on which was not news to her. Her barely-above-a-whisper conversation with Beckman hadn't seemed to have bothered the other occupants of the room and she really didn't want to be awake yet. The day was going to be stressful enough. She didn't want to start dealing with it until the last possible moment.
The rhythmic rise and fall of her husband's chest lulled her into a dozing sleep. It wasn't a deep, drool inducing sleep, so about an hour later, when she heard someone in the bathroom, she stirred awake. Like a ninja, she got up off the sofa without disturbing its other occupants and walked softly toward Casey's bedroom. She peeked in to see Martie and Bridget under the covers, with an empty spot where Megan had been. Lisa lay sideways across the foot of the bed, curled up under Casey's heavy winter coat. The ability of these kids to adjust to new and difficult situations never ceased to amaze her.
The bathroom door opened and Megan padded out, Spy Barbie in tow. "Aunt Sarah, did our house burn down?" the little girl whispered.
Sarah knelt down to her level. "I don't know, sweetie. As soon as we know anything, we'll let you know, okay?"
Megan nodded, her blonde hair lumpy from sleep. Sarah knew hers probably didn't look much better. "Do you want to go back to bed for awhile?"
"No," her youngest said, slowly shaking her head. "I'm hungry."
Standing, she took Megan's hand and said, "I'll get you some cereal."
Within half an hour, everyone was up eating, sitting at any empty place they could find. Chuck had the TV turned to the news, watching to gain any information on what was now known as the "Widow's Gulch" fire. It had not significantly advanced overnight, but as the sun rose and the assault on the fire began anew, the fire was fighting back. The winds began to pick up, but as of yet, they weren't strong enough to ground the aerial attack. They heard slurry bombers rumble overhead and watched helicopters on the news drop huge buckets of water on hotspots. The best hope in gaining control of the blaze firmly remained on the rapidly approaching storm.
As the morning wore on, the kids grew bored and restless. Sarah knew that in such close quarters, and with nothing to do, a pretty serious row could erupt at any time. There had already been a couple of minor skirmishes she and Chuck quickly put a stop to, but they both knew it might only be a matter of time before a crater took the place of where Casey's condo used to be. In their whispered conversation, they floated and shot down different ideas for something to keep the kids occupied. The air quality outside was bad from the smoke so doing anything "outdoorsy" was out of the question. They both agreed that sending them to school was a non-starter. They didn't want to leave the area, so doing something in Denver wasn't an option either. Daytime television was awful and they didn't want to immerse the kids in the fire coverage all day, so the TV needed to stay off. Going to see a movie was the only thing they came up with. They planned to do so later if the kids could survive each other until then.
In the meantime, Sarah had to find something to keep them occupied. Racking her brain, she scanned the room, hoping inspiration would hit. When her eyes fell on Casey's locked gun cabinet, it did. She hoped Chuck would be okay with her proposal.
"I'm not sure you showing them your gun is such a good idea. Don't you think it will give them the feeling that they can touch it if they know more about it?" he asked.
"I'm hoping this will do the opposite, that it will take away the mystery and they'll learn how important it is to be safe," she replied. When she saw the dubious look on his face, she added, "I have and will continue to keep my ammunition and loaded magazines locked in a separate safe away from the pistol itself, which has its own lockbox. In my line of work and with us going to Europe with Casey, they're bound to be around guns. A lot."
He considered her words and slowly nodded.
A few minutes later, Sarah sat at the kitchen table with a chamois she had found in an unlocked drawer of Casey's gun cabinet laid out in front of her. On top of it was her Smith & Wesson 5906. The rest of the family sat next to or stood behind her, looking on.
She sat sideways in her chair and twisted around to address them. In a firm, businesslike tone, she said, "I'm going to show you my gun. I know you've seen it before, but never really up close. Before I start, I want to remind you that you are still never to touch it unless I'm there and tell you it's okay to do so. You got that?" Everyone, including Chuck, nodded soberly.
Satisfied with their response, she continued. "Safety first and always. You must always handle any firearm as if it were loaded. Even when you know it isn't, pretend that it is. That's just good gun safety. Always point the gun in a safe direction, again, even if you know it's not loaded. And never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot."
Turning back toward the table, she carefully picked up the pistol and removed the magazine. When it slid out of the grip and into her awaiting palm, there were audible gasps and a murmured "cool." Holding up the magazine for them to see, she said, "This magazine is empty, but it will hold fifteen rounds." Then she checked the chamber to make sure it didn't contain a round. She demonstrated how the slide worked, explained the difference between single and double action triggers, and showed them the safety. Then she took the gun apart by pushing out the pin and pulling the slide off the frame. She removed the recoil spring and rod and then the barrel from the slide, laying out all the pieces on the chamois. As she deftly reassembled the gun, she reiterated the importance that they were to never touch any firearm of any kind unless she was there to supervise.
The gun demonstration was a great success. It was Lizzie who asked, "Aunt Sarah, why did you show us this now? I mean, you've lived with us for almost a year now and this is the first time you've done something like this."
"I guess," she started and looked to Chuck to see if she could tell them the rest. It seemed like weeks since they had received permission from Graham to go to Europe when in reality, it had only been the day before. His wink told her to go ahead. "I guess I want you to be comfortable around it since I'll be taking my gun with me when we all, Uncle Casey included, go to Europe this summer."
The room exploded with all the kids talking at once. At least they're not at each other's throats anymore. She stood, picked up the pistol and magazine and returned them to her purse. "Where's your loaded clip?" Chuck asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said with a wicked smile.
"I would." His eyes slowly gave her the once over.
"You're getting warmer," she teased.
He pulled her to him and growled, "You have no idea." When she chuckled he said, "You're just trying to get my mind off the house, aren't you?"
"Maybe. Is it working?"
He whispered in her ear, "Let's just say the forest isn't the only thing on fire."
She pulled back and gave him a thoughtful look. "Have you ever thought about wearing a fireman's coat?"
~ O ~
As lunch was being consumed, the topic of conversation was on what movie to go see. It became clear rather quickly that the older and younger kids might end up seeing different movies. Chuck went off to consult his laptop to see what was playing.
Sarah's blood ran cold when she glanced at his face. Something was terribly wrong. She went to him immediately and sat down next to him on the sofa. "Chuck! What is it?" She was afraid of the answer.
Still staring at the screen he said, "One of the local news websites has a link to a list of addresses where there's been fire damage." He paused and then looked at her with disbelief in his eyes. "Our address is on the list," he whispered.
She gripped his arm to steady herself and found it hard to breathe. His words repeated in her head. "Damage? What do they mean by 'damage'?"
"I don't know," he answered numbly. His unfocused gaze returned to the screen.
"Maybe the house is just damaged but not destroyed then." She gripped his arm tighter. "The news said the fire hasn't reached our neighborhood yet. Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe…" She stopped. There were a million maybes. She released the death grip on his arm, but left her hand there. "What do we tell the kids?"
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "The truth. But let's wait until we know more before we say anything, okay?"
All she could do was nod. He closed the laptop and put it on the floor. Taking her hands in his, they sat in dazed silence. She wasn't sure how long they remained like that and it was only when the sounds of a brewing argument penetrated the fog in her brain that she was roused to movement. Distractedly, she refereed the conflict and sent the offending parties to separate rooms to cool off for a few minutes. She returned to where Chuck still sat on the sofa. The look on his face had changed from one of complete devastation to firm resolve. She gazed into his eyes, silently questioning him.
"I've lived through my parents leaving and my sister and brother-in-law being killed in a car accident," he said, his voice edged with anger. "For years, I single-handedly raised seven kids. I've been threatened by a cabal of bad guys, and kidnapped and nearly blown up by an asshole traitor. I'll be damned if I let a little thing like my house burning down break me." His eyes burned with determination.
She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. The dread that had hung around her began to lift. His body, which during his speech had been coiled like a spring, relaxed. "We're in this together," she said simply.
He took her hand and kissed her open palm. Their moment was interrupted when her phone rang from her back pocket.
She heaved a sigh and answered the call. Before she could say anything, General Beckman said, "Agent Walker, I have news about your home."
"Yes, ma'am. Chuck and I just saw it on a website that lists homes that have fire damage."
The general hesitated. "I'm not sure where you're getting your information, Agent Walker," she said slowly, "but as of now, your house is fine."
Sarah sat up straighter. "What? I don't understand." Her eyes cut to Chuck's who looked at her questioningly.
"I ordered an NSA satellite to be retasked to ascertain the condition of your house. That took some time. The images from it downloaded just a few minutes ago. I'm sending them now to Chuck's e-mail account. I assume you have access to a computer."
"Yes, ma'am." She pointed at the laptop on the floor and mouthed "E-mail." Into the phone she said, "Chuck's logging in right now."
He was clearly puzzled, but did as she directed.
Beckman said, "I can understand why there is some confusion, but as of ten minutes ago, your house remains unaffected by the fire."
What the hell is going on? "I'm not sure I understand, General. How could—" She stopped when Chuck's eyebrows shot up and nearly hit his hairline. Leaning closer to the screen, he examined the satellite image. She put her head right next to his and stared at the image. The time stamp at the corner indicated that it had been taken twelve minutes before. There the house stood, clearly intact. Some of the trees in one area at the edge of the backyard grass were blackened. There was a scorched mark on the ground where the gazebo once stood.
"The damage wasn't to the house," she said to herself, more than anyone else.
"That is correct," Beckman said. "I'm sorry about the outlying building, but I'm sure you're relieved to know that the main house is untouched."
Sarah blew out a breath. "Yes, General, we certainly are." She watched Chuck sag back against the couch and gape at her, thoroughly stunned. "I'm confused, though. How did only that area burn when the fire hasn't progressed there yet?"
"Our analysts believe that embers landed in the trees at the edge of your property. Next to them a structure—a gazebo if memory serves—burned along with the trees. The smoke was most likely seen by spotters and a helicopter would have been dispatched immediately to drop water on that hot spot."
She was suddenly very thankful for the backyard grass and the distance it put between the woods and the house. "Have your analysts projected what they believe will happen next with the fire?" Sarah questioned. She decided it couldn't hurt to ask. NSA analysts weren't exactly stupid.
"Yes. If you'll look at the other image I sent, you'll find a wider view." Sarah turned the laptop toward her and clicked open the other image. "You'll note your house and the current fire line are marked in blue. The fire is approximately a half-mile from your house. We understand from authorities on the ground there that they are throwing every available resource, both air and ground, at this line. They believe they'll be able to hold it. I think you can be cautiously optimistic that the house will come through this unscathed."
Cautiously optimistic is better than nothing. "We will be, ma'am."
"Very good. I have one other piece of news. We've contacted the National Weather Service and they have informed us that the storm coming from the west should bring a significant amount of moisture. You should be noticing a drop in temperature within a few hours."
Relief flooded her and the distress of the last half hour drained away. "General, I can't thank you enough for looking out us." She paused and cleared her throat as the emotions nearly overwhelmed her. "I'm… we're so very grateful to you."
"It has been my pleasure to help you and your family during this difficult time," Beckman said officiously. Her tone softened as she said drily, "Like I said earlier, what good is it being a general if I don't get to throw my weight around once in awhile?"
Sarah chuckled and said, "Well, I'm glad you were able to do so on our behalf. Thank you again."
"You're very welcome and if there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to contact me. Goodbye, Sarah."
"Goodbye, General." Sarah lowered the phone from her ear and stared at it in her hand. She looked at Chuck, who was as dumbstruck as she. "Did you hear any of that?" she asked.
He nodded. "We haven't lost the house after all."
"No. The fire isn't out yet, and it's not too far away from the house. But between the firefighters and the incoming storm, it looks good for us." She blew out a gust of air and flopped against the back cushion.
Lizzie came into the room. "What is it? You two look like you've seen a ghost."
Chuck smiled and called all the kids to join them. Once they were assembled, Sarah relayed the phone conversation she had just had with Beckman. While she and Chuck couldn't go so far as to assure the kids that nothing else would happen to the house—the fire wasn't completely extinguished—what she did tell them helped to alleviate some of the anxiety.
In order to help pass the time, the family decided to go ahead with their plans to see a movie. Unexpectedly, they were able to agree on one that everyone was willing to watch, although the boys were sure the chosen film wouldn't contain enough explosions for their taste. As they made their way across the parking lot and into the movie complex, the sun shone through the smoky haze hanging in the air. The lobby was crowded for a weekday, which wasn't particularly surprising since most of the patrons were evacuees like themselves.
When they left the theater two and a half hours later, the world outside had changed. The sky was grey, not from smoke but from the low clouds that had rolled in. The temperature had dropped, just like it had been forecast, and there was a definite chill in the air.
As they returned to Casey's condo, the first few flakes of snow drifted down around them. The kids jumped out of the van and ran up the stairs. Chuck took Sarah's hand as they trailed behind the kids and said, "I don't think I've ever been so happy to see snow before."
With a relieved sigh, she squeezed his hand and replied, "Me either."
~ O ~
Mother Nature, which could be firefighters' biggest foe when battling a blaze, turned out, in the end, to be their greatest ally. The fire fighting effectiveness of helicopters, slurry bombers, chainsaws and various sorts of heavy equipment paled in comparison to the thick, white, moisture-laden layer of wet spring snow that blanketed the area overnight. Confident that the fire would not advance on snow covered ground and trees, the authorities lifted the evacuation order and everyone was allowed to return to their homes.
Despite their attempts to keep Casey's apartment as clean as possible, nine people living in it for a couple of days caused a bit of a mess. So before they left, the kids were put into teams with each team given an area to clean. Mixing in some spy training, Sarah told the kids that a good spy never left any evidence behind, so she challenged them to clean so thoroughly that not even a fingerprint would be found. With this directive, the kids enthusiastically set to work. They scrubbed the bathroom, emptied the kitchen of anything that could spoil—including the brown "science project" that lived in the fridge since before their arrival—washed the sheets and remade the bed. Every surface was wiped clean and the entire floor was vacuumed.
"I think Uncle Casey's place is cleaner than it was when we got here," Martie mentioned to Sarah as they wiped down the kitchen table.
Sarah smiled and replied, "I think you're right."
The bags—and Lizzie's laundry basket—were packed up and stowed in the van when Sarah made her final inspection. Each team stood at attention next to the area they had cleaned. Trying to give it the appropriate amount of seriousness, she couldn't look at Chuck as he leaned a shoulder against a wall and watched. The smirk on his face and the amusement in his eyes would have caused her to break into laughter.
All eyes followed her as she moved from room to room. She checked under the bed to make sure there weren't any stray socks hidden there. She scanned the bathroom to ensure the "girly" shampoo had been removed. She checked the office for stray books or papers left out. She scrutinized the handles on the refrigerator and microwave and found them fingerprint free.
At the end of her inspection, the kids were lined up in the living room, awaiting her final pronouncement. Sarah looked them over and with great pride she said, "You are excellent spies." Grins erupted and held breaths were released with gusto.
They filed out the door and stood in the hall. As Chuck closed and locked the door, the only thing they left behind was a homemade thank you card that Martie and Megan had made. Each of them, including Chuck and Sarah, had signed it and it now sat on the kitchen table awaiting Casey's return.
Before they left, there was one more thing that had to be done. Chuck returned the key to its box, reattached the box to the back of the flag and reaffixed the flag to the wall. When the final screw was tightened, Chuck turned back to his family and said, "Let's go home."
~ O ~
As the van came around the final bend, they all peered out the window to make sure the house still stood just the way they had left it. When it came into view, a cheer went up.
Once safely in the garage, the kids tumbled out and waited impatiently for Chuck to unlock the door. When he pushed it open, the kids sprinted past him and disappeared into the house. "I guess they're glad to be home," he said to Sarah, stating the obvious with a smile.
She returned his smile as she neared him. "I know I am," she replied as she slid her arm around his waist. Arms around each other, they strolled through the house to find it exactly the way they had left it in such a hurry a couple of days before. The only difference now was that it smelled of smoke.
The kids banged and thumped around upstairs, obviously checking their rooms to ensure everything was in order. "I bet they'll be happy to sleep in their own beds tonight," Sarah said, glancing up toward the bedrooms.
"As much as I enjoyed being your pillow," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her, "I'm looking forward to getting into bed with you tonight."
She stopped in the middle of the living room, turned and put both hands on the sides of his face. Pulling his head down, she kissed him. She hoped it would convey to him what her words could not: pride, relief, gratitude, comfort, devotion, love.
Several sets of feet bounded down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, completely ignoring her and Chuck locked in their kiss. It wasn't until the door to the backyard opened that they reluctantly parted. "Where are you guys going?" Chuck asked.
"We want to go see the burned up gazebo," Fred replied as he tromped out the back door and down the snow covered stairs. His brother and sisters followed him out.
"Do you want to go see, too?" Chuck asked.
Although she was grateful that the house had been spared of damage, she was sad that the gazebo—a place where so many important things in her life had taken place—was now gone. With a wistful sigh, she said, "Yeah, let's go."
As they trudged across the snow, she wished she had put on snow boots. However by the time they reached the place where the gazebo had once stood, she didn't care about her feet anymore. They all stood motionless before the jarring scene. Charred two-by-fours toppled over each other like a pile of pick up sticks. The blackened wood appeared even more ominous when contrasted against the pure, white snow that covered it. Burned pine trees stood tall and thin, their branches stripped of every needle. The trees that hadn't burned but had been exposed to the intense flames were scorched and brown on one side.
"Whoa!" Curtis breathed. "That could have been the whole house." The truth in his words made Sarah involuntarily shudder.
"Yes, but it wasn't, so let's be glad that it was only the gazebo that was lost," Chuck said.
They stood there for another minute, taking in the scene. When the kids grew cold and bored, they stomped up the stairs and back into the house.
Sarah swiped at the wetness on her cheeks with the cuffs of her sweatshirt that were pulled over her hands. Chuck slipped a comforting arm around her and pulled her to his side. Sniffing, she chuckled through her tears. "It's stupid," she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Our house is fine and here I am crying over the gazebo."
"It's not stupid. I know how important this place is to you… to us. Our talks, the engagement." He kissed her temple. "The first time you told me you loved me."
Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, "I know I could never forget the things we've said here, our times together, but every time I saw it, walked past it, or sat in it… it made all those memories flood back and remind me of how lucky I am."
Chuck sighed and hugged her closer. "Hopefully the new gazebo will be able to do the same thing for you. We'll make new memories, too."
She stared at his profile as he gazed at the jumble of charred wood. "We're going to rebuild it?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't we?" he said as if it were a foregone conclusion. "The question is, do you want it to be exactly the same or new and improved?"
She didn't need to even think about it. "Exactly the same."
"I had a feeling you would say that," he responded with a smile. "I have the original plans in the office somewhere. I think the same guys who built the first one are still in business. I'll give them a call."
She looked up at the blackened pine trees. "We can plant some new pine seedlings, too." The heaviness in her heart began to lighten.
"Good idea. I'll call the landscaper and have him get some for us."
They turned and tramped through the snow back toward the house. "Who knew normal life was filled with so much adventure," she mused.
He gave her a knowing smile as they climbed the stairs together. "I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but with seven kids, we'll never be normal."
She chuckled. "Then normal is overrated. I wouldn't want us any other way."
~ O ~
Three days of stress and two nights of sleeping at Casey's had taken its toll. Martie and Megan could barely stay awake through dinner and were sent off to bed soon thereafter. The older kids stayed up a little later, but were growing short tempered. Since they had school the next day, Chuck and Sarah made them go upstairs earlier than normal. The fire Chuck had built earlier in the fireplace had now turned to glowing embers. Staring at the coals and feeling the warmth they gave, Sarah couldn't help but wonder at enjoying the effects of a fire rather than fearing them.
She took a sip of wine and gently set the glass on the coffee table. Leaning back against the armrest of the sofa, one of her sock-clad feet rested on Chuck's lap. The other, he massaged. His hands were doing things to it that made her literally moan with pleasure.
"You make it impossible for me to care about what's on this piece of paper when you're doing that," she murmured. The paper in question dropped to her lap and she sighed with delight when he pushed and rubbed his thumb, hard, at the center of her arch. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the couch and purred, "I think you missed your calling. You have magic hands."
"I'm not sure how much money I could make being a foot masseuse, but I suppose I could give it a try. I'm sure there are lots of bored housewives out there that would enjoy a patented Chuck Bartowski foot massage."
She opened her eyes and peered at him. "On second thought, those fingers of yours are better off at a computer keyboard. And all patented Chuck Bartowski foot massages are exclusively reserved for your wife."
"Fiiiiine," he breathed in mock exasperation. "First I can't date and now you're robbing me of a potential livelihood." If he was trying to look put out, he was failing miserably. He couldn't hide from her the delight in his eyes. He dropped the foot he had been working on onto his lap, took the other foot in his hands and started in on it. She reclosed her eyes and released a throaty, contented groan.
"What do you think of the itinerary for Europe? It landed in my inbox this morning, but with everything going on, I didn't read it until this evening. Do you think Graham can wait to see it until tomorrow?"
"He's going to have to because you're not going to stop what you're doing to call him."
"Yes, ma'am." Her eyes were still closed, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
She reveled in his touch before rousing herself enough to respond to his earlier question. She turned the list of cities over in her mind. "I gave the itinerary only a cursory glance since I'm a bit… distracted," she said, smiling as he kneaded her foot. "It'll certainly be a busy trip. I assume we'll be traveling mostly by train or airplane."
"I assume so, too. We're going to depend a lot on you. The kids and I have never been out of the country."
She lifted her head from the back of the couch and looked at him. "All the cities we'll be visiting are so wonderful. I hope I get to show you and the kids more than just the inside of Buy Mores. This is such a fantastic opportunity for them."
"Morgan convinced Buy More corporate to add a couple of days to each city for us to be able to do a little sightseeing."
Nodding, she said, "Good. I have contacts in most of those cities, too. I'll need to work them to see what I can find out about Benoit and your parents." She eyed him. "You're still okay with that, right?"
"Yes, of course." His hands on her foot slowed and he grew pensive. "It's just kind of weird and scary to think that we might actually find out what happened with my parents."
"Chuck, please don't get your hopes up. We might not find out anything." She didn't want to dash his hopes completely, but she also wanted him to be prepared if there was a less than stellar outcome.
"I know," he said, resignation edging into his voice. Rallying himself, his hands massaged her foot with renewed vigor. "But no matter what happens with that, we still get to go to Europe, right?"
She adored his ability to always find the bright side. "Right. And tomorrow, we start your training."
"What?" he cried. "Here I am, slaving away—I'm literally at your feet—and you have to go and mention that?"
"Oh, so you were hoping to distract me from starting your training tomorrow by rubbing my feet?"
"Would I do that? You wound me deeply, madam," he said, his voice brimming with drama. She didn't need to utter a word. Her arched eyebrow spoke volumes. Slyly cutting his eyes at her, he asked, "Did it work?"
"No," she drawled. She slowly pulled her feet from his lap and swung them around so that she was on her knees, sitting on them. Giving him a predatory look, she advanced on him. He shifted as she approached, so that he ended up with his back flat on the cushion. She crawled across and settled on top of him, his hands resting on her hips. Her face hovered inches above his, her hair tumbling down and framing her face. "I have to admit that it did give me other ideas."
He gave her a languid smile. "Yeah? Well, as long as it wasn't a complete waste." His gaze fell to her mouth.
"No, it wasn't a waste at all. I just don't want to," she softly brushed her lips across his, eliciting from him a low groan, "wear you out before our workout tomorrow."
He wove his fingers through her hair and his thumb lazily stroked her cheek. He gently pulled her close and they shared a long, slow, luxurious kiss. When he released her lips, he mumbled, "I'll take my chances."
~ O ~
A/N the second: A bit of scheduling news. I won't be posting next Thursday, June 7th. My husband and I will be at an undisclosed location celebrating our twentieth wedding anniversary. Barring any unforeseen problems, I plan on posting chapter 12 on June 14th.
