Chapter 13
Excuse the delay, FF is playing hide the browser...they won't accept my usual and make me use something else, grrr.
Michelle finished her morning workout. Gentle Ben, another oversized Rangeman employee and she finished their 10 mile run at the 5 mile mark, the sleet make the roads dangerous and their clothing soaked. Princeton was quickly becoming an ice paradise. Her first appointment wasn't until 10:00 a.m., perhaps the weather would improve before then. Turning the warm shower water off, she began drying off. Tending her hair took only moments unlike the 20 plus minutes it too when her hair was long. She looked in the mirror as she applied restrained make-up that enhanced her looks instead of giving her false courage behind mascara layers. Hesitating, she stared at the image in front of her. "Who are you?" she silently asked. "Are you Mitch the Bitch or Michelle NoLastName or are you Stephanie Plum? The uncertainty was unsettling.
The mental discussion continued through the dressing and into the kitchen for breakfast; a fruit and vegetable smoothie. Moving to the table away from her laptop and papers, she didn't need to ruin another computer through food contamination; she still hadn't resolved the identity issue. Why?
The question and answer were brewing since Atlanta when she met Ranger. After the meltdown, while others prayed before bed, she talked to Ranger. Mainly it was to ask forgiveness for the years of bouncing between him and Joe. Eventually she added asking for his forgiveness for listening to her mother, what wasted years!
"Damn," she swore out loud. Looking at her reflection she asked, "Was I talking to Ranger while I was with Joe before the Christmas travesty?" Was that why…no! Mitch the Bitch arose, "What does it matter? It's over, gone, finito. Your life is so much better now than it was as Stephanie. Cut the cr*p."
Mitch loathed Stephanie for her indecisiveness, emotional confusion, laziness, and stubbornness, yet it was Stephanie that loved Ranger. Mitch the Bitch was the Anti-Stephanie Plum; clear thinking, decisive, emotionally controlled, wrapped up in boundless energy. Michelle was the woman somewhere between the two and would have to deal with the past, Ricardo Carlos Manoso as well as the future and any future personas that may occur; business woman, wife, mother, caregiver to her family both by blood and her Rangeman family.
She was now seeing the world through woman's eyes, not through the Burg's distortion. Mitch was her armor while she healed. Much to her surprise, the men at Rangeman were not offended by Mitch. Not one of the men had made sexual innuendos towards her. Did Tank give a warning or did they understand what she needed, time out to rebuild. They were her friends unlike any she had ever had before. They were now associates, team members and she was expected to pull her own weight.
She had remained celibate, it was emotionally enlightening plus she didn't want, or at least wasn't ready for a husband and family. Thanks to Tank's gentle morality coaching, she had gotten her libido under control. She smiled remembering her early instructions from Tank back in Maine, "Plum we are not going to have sex. You are here to be trained not to copulate. For the next 8 weeks there will be no fucking around and I mean that literally. At the end of training, you can reestablish your birth control." It was harsh back then and funny now. In early fall Bobby had insisted she resume birth control, "Things can change quickly." Was he seeing something in her she hadn't yet seen? Or did he know more about Ranger? After all, six weeks later was Rangemaninja.
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Ranger had been in Newark for a week. He had followed the happenings in Trenton from afar and was happy to see the name Stephanie Plum did not make the newspaper.
He and his father sat out on the enclosed back porch wrapped in winter jackets and hats. His father smoked cigars and kept the smell outside as much as possible. Today he and his son were Havana cigars from Havana, Ranger had a contraband source.
"Son, what are you going to do now?" his father asked.
"Papa, for the first time in 15 years I don't know. I'm empty. Rangeman is running well, men and women coming out of service are finding their ways back into society."
"Except for you, you are lost, it is in your eyes," his father said kindly.
"I've lost my edge, I don't know who I am," Ranger said as his eyes skimmed over the back yard, always vigilant.
"Have you talked to counselors?"
"Yes, several; we talk about transitions from service to nonservice, setting new goals," Ranger shrugged. It was the same tripe with each counselor. None could help him with his deeper problem.
"I take it you haven't set new goals."
"Papa, I'm still carrying a lot of guilt over what I've done."
"Warfare and the unreasonable demands we make of our men and now women…"
"Yeah, I know all that, I'm talking about my personal life."
His father puffed on his cigar, "Finally."
Ranger jerked his head sideways, it still caused a bit of pain. "What?! What do you mean finally?"
"Son, you have the amazing ability to prioritize your work; Army, Rangeman, and such; but are horrible in your personal life."
Ranger blew out the cigar's smoke, "I never wanted a personal life. I am…or was…an elite soldier and needed to concentrate on being the best."
"And probably assumed you'd die in combat…"
Ranger shot his father a look.
His father continued, "But you ended up with two women in your life, Julie and Stephanie."
Ranger was going to interrupt, but didn't get the chance.
"Julie is your daughter. No, she wasn't planned, but you did the honorable thing by marrying Rachael, giving Julie a name and then releasing Rachael to find love. What you didn't expect is Julie is you; smart both in intelligence and awareness. She also possesses the same single minded drive you have. You did not raise her but yet she is you. Says something about DNA doesn't it?"
Ranger was quiet for a while then quietly spoke, "She saved my life."
"And you saved hers years ago with the Scrog kidnapping," Mr. Manoso reminded his son.
Ranger shook his head, "No it was Julie that saved my life then too."
Ranger's father nodded, "Back then and recently, both times she's done it by using that same single minded drive and intelligence. This last time she knocked you out of your depression."
"Depression?" Ranger asked.
"Survivor's guilt though you didn't lose a man on the mission, self loathing, worthlessness, guilt, fear, and a host of others. I'm putting them all together into depression. I'm not a doctor of course." He puffed some more. "She still needs her father, the one who understands her moods, her drives. Ron tries, but….Julie is you."
"And I need her; I wish I had spent more time with her."
I'm glad you didn't. You were too wrapped up in yourself to give her what she needed at the time. Ron and Rachael have supported her, but they've never understood her. You do. You showed her how to be strong, think for herself. Now that she's an adolescent, she could think herself into trouble the way you did."
Mr. Manoso flicked the ash from the cigar and paused, aligning his thoughts. "Your mother and I failed you; we were wrapped up in the others and the business. You alone needed more than we could give, but being one of six, small, picked on by others, you got lost. I couldn't fight your fights, but I could have been more supportive."
Ranger thought of his being away from Julie for long periods. How was he supportive?
"If a person is not loved or acknowledged for their accomplishments, respected as an individual, they quit trying or go off to where they are respected. For you it was gangs were you found trouble. You were saved twice; your abuela could give you total attention and love, keeping you from self-destructing. The second was the Army. They straightened your head, taught you responsibility, how to apply yourself and devote yourself to a cause.
I'm not saying Julie is heading towards trouble, but you need to be there, like your abuela was there for you, if she needs help.
Suddenly Ranger wasn't thinking about Julie but about Stephanie. She was like he was, lost without support. She didn't fall to gangs, she tried to assert herself by becoming a bond apprehension agent and he was the only one who supported her…and then he didn't. Of course she shattered. Now she has the support from her fellow Rangeman, but does she have love?
His father continued, "Right now you may think of yourself as unlovable for what you did in the military? What twenty-six year old man so cares for his men that he formulates a plan to begin a company to provide a transition from the military to civilian life?"
Ranger just shrugged as if to say, "Of course I had to do that, care for my men."
"Now about Stephanie, where is she?" his father asked. "Did she marry the cop?"
Ranger put his head in his hands and whispered, "No."
Patiently his father waited. He could feel the emotional pain rolling off his son. When Carlos didn't speak for a while his father feared Stephanie was dead. "Guzman?"
Ranger's head snapped up. "What do you know?"
His father put his cigar down and began. "You had already left. Pierre sent us, to Charleston for Christmas. The Atlanta Rangeman put us all in a lovely estate and explained you were doing something dangerous and if you failed, we'd be in danger. The CEO down there, the big guy that looks like the actor, explained as much as he could and mentioned the name Guzman. When your team was extricated and Guzman and his family were confirmed dead, we returned home."
"I didn't know."
"No, your mother wasn't going to tell you as she sat beside your bed in the hospital week after week. She was crushed when you wouldn't come home to Newark to rehabilitate. She suspected it had to do with Stephanie."
Ranger threw his head back and chuckled, "People say I'm psychic, I actually inherited it."
"No, you talk a lot in your sleep," his father chuckled. "You were crying out for Stephanie, begging her forgiveness. So what happened between you and Stephanie?"
Ranger went on to tell his father about lying to Morelli, forcing him to step up and propose. Ranger was crushed but felt she was in safe hands. But his plans didn't work; Morelli wasn't her protector, he became her abuser. Ranger explained the Christmas travesty ending with the only refuge she had, her apartment, burning to the ground and her mental melt down. "Apparently Pierre took her someplace safe and worked with her until she could return to Haywood Street. He and the others worked with her, building her back up mentally and physically. A few weeks ago she was at the Rangeman competitions in Atlanta. I hardly recognized her. She has become fit, super fit, cut her hair, walks and speaks with authority. She changed her name to her middle name and even goes by the nickname Mitch to impress herself and others with her hardening…it's the only word I can come up with to describe the change. She doesn't want people to remember her as Stephanie."
"Did you talk with her," his father asked.
"Briefly."
"Did she push you away?"
Ranger didn't know how to answer. "No, she didn't walk away from me but she's changed. She said she finally understood…understood why I was the way I was."
His father laughed out loud, "Carlos, you don't even understand why you are and the way you are, but she does. Typical. A mature, strong woman has incredible insight….I'm married to one. We men would do better if we listened more."
Ranger stared into the backyard for a while. "Last week I went to see her father in Florida. The Plums divorced. There was no marriage left so when Stephanie broke down, the father's eyes cleared and got the courage to end the marriage. He ended up with two of his three granddaughters as Stephanie's sister was a carbon copy of the mother and abusing one of the girls as Steph had been. Frank gave me more insight into Stephanie's life. She was unwanted and unloved by her mother. Steph's first marriage, pushed by her mother, lasted 3 months. The cop professed to love her but wanted to control her. I was the only one who loved her, complimented her, built her up but then cast her away over and over. I should have never gotten involved with her."
"No, you protected her the only way you knew," Papa said.
"Maybe there was another way…."
"Do you still love her?"
"I think so."
"Who do you love, Stephanie or the new woman?"
"I don't know the new one. What if she doesn't need me anymore?"
Is that the type of relationship you want? A woman/child constantly looking for acceptance crumbs you throw her from time to time, emotionally immature or a woman your equal; one who built herself exactly like you did?"
Ranger was unsure how to answer. Was he drawn to the fluffy Stephanie, curls and needy? Does Mitch or Michelle have a soft side?
"Carlos, you won't know until you see her and talk to her. She may be different, tougher, but the heart may still be there for you. If she knew you were in the area and didn't call, how would she feel?"
"Abandoned…..again."
"You've abandoned her time and again to keep her safe. Are you going to continue doing so now because of indecision or fear?" his father asked.
"What if she's moved on to someone else?"
"What if's get you nowhere and eventually eat you alive, Carlos. Ranger Manoso gathered facts and was decisive. It's time to recapture him. If she has moved on, then so must you."
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"Michelle, its Ranger. I'm in Newark visiting my family. I would like to see you, away from Rangeman. I was wondering if you'd have lunch with me tomorrow. I can come to Trenton."
Michelle was wondering where the "Yo" had disappeared? "Ranger, I'm not living or working in Trenton right now, I'm in Princeton for a while. Rangeman has facilities in North Mercer County."
"I can meet you wherever you wish. It's just lunch Michelle." He hoped he didn't sound like he was pleading. Geez, what has happened to him?
There was a long pause, she didn't know if she was ready for this, but definitely preferred a public location. "Agricolas in Princeton at 1:15?"
"I'll be there. Thank you." He so wanted to say Babe but didn't know if it was appropriate for Mitch. He still didn't say good-bye on the phone. Phone manners weren't developed.
Ranger arrived early and found a table against the wall, of course. He sipped the restaurant's filtered mineral water waiting for the women who kept him alive through many missions but who in the end he had to hurt, even destroy.
She came into the restaurant in her tailored black pant suit with heels; the pale blue sweater matched her eyes. The wool jacket was cut to conceal a weapon at her back; few would recognize the difference. A scarf in the same blue was wound around her neck for warmth. Her broad shoulders, tight waist and trim hips gave her a lovely but edgy look. This was not a piece of fluff, her Jersey girl look was gone. Ranger noted several men watched her walk assuredly through the restaurant; they were curious but hesitant.
"Hello Ranger," she said as she allowed him to kiss her cheek. "Have you been waiting long?"
"No, just a few minutes. Thank you for having lunch with me," he said. It sounded so dull but he was trying to keep his emotions undercover.
The waitress came by with the menus, "May I get you something to drink?"
Michelle ordered lemonade, Ranger stayed with the water.
Looking over the menu he was surprised at all the lighter fare but said nothing. She glanced at the menu and put it down.
He looked up surprised and fearful. Was she going to bolt? Normally she spends far more time making a selection. "Do you know what you want already?" he asked.
She smiled, "I eat here frequently. I'm getting the chicken salad. He glanced at the ingredients; chicken, fruits, vegetables and nuts, hardly a typical Babe meal but does explain the enhanced physique.
"Sounds good," he said as he set his menu down.
After the waitress brought the drinks and took their order, leaving them in peace; Ranger and Mitch sat in silence, not knowing who was going to speak first.
"I assume from your dress you are not doing bond apprehensions today," he said kicking himself for another banal opening.
"No, I'm concentrating on my clients, staying away from Trenton what with….." She didn't continue.
"…the situation with Joe," he finished. "I've read the papers. Tell me about your clients." He certainly didn't want to discuss Morelli.
She realized Rangeman ran a bit differently than when he ran it and explained she was the Rangeman face here in north Mercer County. She met prospective clients and if they signed a contract, she over saw the system installation and made frequent check backs until the clients were comfortable. If service was needed, she'd accompany the technician.
"You know the various systems?" he asked.
"I've been working with Hector and Julio, he's someone new."
"How many new clients do you get from this special service?"
"Ranger, it's not special, it is how Rangeman Trenton operates now. You were the front man for most sales when you were in town. I'm the lead as well, but I do more backups, check backs to make sure the people are satisfied and that Rangeman truly cares for their security. With a woman as the lead, sales are less testosterone, more personal contact. When I have a client who works better with men, Lester or Charlie becomes the lead. Since I've come aboard, we have far more women owned businesses and homes under contract than ever before. Of course the security response is testosterone overload, that's still expected.
"You said Northern Mercer, how many others are there of you?"
Charlie handles western Mercer; Ewing, Hopewell, and Hamilton. Lester does Trenton. I do Princeton, West Windsor and East Windsor. We haven't gotten to Robbinsville.
"You are spread too thin for response," he shot back just like the Ranger of old.
"If we were totally based from Haywood, yes, the response time would be 30 minutes or more. We have three satellite centers with at least four patrols at all times in each district. A new one is being planned as more clients come aboard."
He knew most of this already, but was just making conversation.
"Do you do FTAs?" Once again he already knew the answer.
"Hal has two teams; Junior and Jamie are his main recovery agents. When he needs a second team Charlie and I step in or if we are tied up, we still have the security patrols."
"Do you spend all your time in the field?"
"No, at least two days a week I'm chained to my desk at Haywood doing paper work."
He chuckled, "That's exactly what it takes me to do the paper work, chains." He sat back and looked at her carefully, "You look good…Michelle."
"I've changed."
"Physically yes, you are more angular, muscular and walk and talk with authority. I miss the curls but understand the less complicated hair now; gone is the Jersey girl with curls and excess mascara. Now there is an in control woman who knows how to highlight her looks subtly."
She looked embarrassed, "Now that I have a regular income, I can go to a higher level salon and spa. Mr. Alexander at the mall was fine, but I've moved on or up."
This fits the new you; in control. Fortunately your eyes will never change; they are still the most amazing shade of blue," he said softly.
She looked at him carefully, "Ranger hasn't changed, you look the same, same build, same eyes but I note something different."
"A limp?"
"No, it's something in your eyes," she said leaning forward.
His father had said something similar. "Are you saying I'm more like Bruce Wayne now, not Batman?"
She jerked back, "I hope not. Bruce Wayne lived in the public eye with high-status women on his arm and was the child of tabloid gossip."
"What do you see?"
She had a compassionate look for the first time, "Someone suffering."
He looked down at the table and sighed slowly. In a quiet voice he began, "Michelle, I was trained to be what I became. I was the best which is why I continued it after the Army. I was a soldier, hunter, stalker, and killer. I lived on the edge every single day to where it became my drug. I needed it and could not stop. It ate me until there was almost nothing inside. Rangeman was my way of making sure my men and others who followed had chance to rebuild their life as I had forsaken mine. Then one day I met a woman with crazy curls who wanted me to teach her to become a bond enforcement agent. You were a spark in my dark life. When you live in the dark, that brief spark is almost blinding. For a brief moment I saw life, not death. You were different than other women I knew, those that threw themselves at me, laughing, tossing their hair around, flirting, what I call the 2 hour women, fuck 'em and leave 'em. You were different. Every pore in my body screamed, "Run, she will ruin everything."
"I'm sorry," she said with sadly. She selfishly related to Ranger by what he did for her, never considering what she was doing to him.
"I was scheduled to move to Miami right after rescuing you from the shower rod, but I didn't. I was drawn to your spark, which became a flame in me cauterizing my wounds, providing solace. I couldn't give you up."
She sat quiet for a bit. "You've never been this open to me."
"I know Babe, I mean Michelle. We couldn't do this back then."
"Ranger, you were my lifeguard. When I disappointed you, you didn't condemn me like my family, the Burg or Joe, you told me in your simple way, "Babe," I could do better. And when I did something right, "Proud of you Babe," was a salve, healing me. But I was a taker, taking from you but not understanding you and your needs. You were so different, alien, and I tried to fit you into a Burg box. You most certainly can't be boxed or even corralled. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you, running back to Joe time and again, listening to my mother. Let's not get into the monetary loss in cars, medical expenses, lost hours for you and the men. I never stopped to think about all those, I was selfish."
He had his tiny Ranger smile, "Babe, you just told me I was never this open, look how you just opened up as well." He paused and then zeroed in on her blue eyes, "When I sent you back to Joe that first time, I didn't realize how deep a scar it left in you. That wound never healed, not in you and surprisingly not in me. You never totally trusted me again and kept running back to Joe which kept the wounds raw in both of us. We tried to bandage them over calling each other friends. I thought you wanted a Burg life, something I'll never do. I knew my life did not lead to family, it was too dangerous. I tried to tell you but I was afraid you'd say it didn't matter, we'd commit to one another and then you'd be killed because of me. Being the cause of your death would destroy me. Equally painful was the thought of me dying and leaving you alone and distraught."
Her mind flashed on a Grandpa Mazur vision of the funeral with the wife, children and in-laws being buried because of something Ranger and the others did. "Ranger, you had to do what you did. I didn't understand then but I understand now. Stephanie, that pathetic person had to shatter before the shell around her brain and heart opened. Tank and the others helped me understand and Dr. Anders, the Rangeman psychologist helped me to feel again but most of the credit belongs to Grandpa Mazur. He opened my eyes."
Shaking his head, "Babe, I don't understand. You said that in Atlanta."
"Someday I'll tell you."
"Do we have a someday?" He asked with hope in his voice.
"Carlos, I can't go back to what I was. If you want or need Stephanie, you will have nothing more than memories. I was in church with Tank and the priest was talking about past, present and future. We can't undo and redo the past, it is gone. We acknowledge and make amends, but we don't drag the mistakes into the present and continually beat them. Nor can we look to the future for the future is not guaranteed. All we can do is live in the now with the knowledge gained from the past."
"Sounds like you and Tank got close."
She put her fork down onto the table. "Stop right there, don't go any further. No jealousy. Nothing happened. You told him both to ignore me and to take care of me. Your mind was not clear before you left. Fortunately his was. Through his devotion to you, your friendship, and his compassionate heart, which he will deny he has, he rescued me and helped rebuild me. Do I love him? Yes, like a father, a brother, a father confessor, best friend, but I have never been IN love with him. That has always been only you, not Dickie Orr, not Joe Morelli, only Ricardo Carlos Manoso."
"I'm sorry, I'm being a jerk."
"Yes you are," she said as she picked her fork back up and tossed aside a raisin.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was taking charge. He knew she had a fiery temper but never one this controlled. Gone were the hand waving, the finer pointing. He loved it.
"Are you looking for Ranger or Carlos?" he asked.
"I see now they are one in the same; one is not evil, the other only good. I've been having the same conflicting thoughts about Michelle and Mitch wondering who I am, then I remembered Dr. Anders as well as what several of the men tried to explain to me; we are one but take on different personas as the situation demands.
Tank made me memorize the Soldier's Creed as well as the Ranger Creed. I understand you now more than I ever did. You were always "on duty." I'm not going to recite both creeds but I keep several lines in mind:
I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than any other Soldier.
I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one-hundred-percent and then some.
Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.
Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor.
Rangers lead the way!
I know Junior says "Once a Marine, always a Marine." Bones is a former Air Force Pararescue jumper, similar creeds. It's a mindset us civilians don't understand, at least I didn't before.
Carlos' mind grabbed hold of two phrases from the creed he knew and lived completely; Surrender is not a Ranger word and I will complete the mission. He was applying these to his physical rehabilitation but was he neglecting is personal rehabilitation. He was so in his thoughts he almost didn't hear her say, "I'm rather curious how Carlos is woven through, I've only seen glimpses."
Why isn't Ranger applying these creed to his life? No surrender, complete the mission.
She sensed his mind churning and concentrated on the last of her salad.
He looked up, "Ranger and Carlos are still there, but Ranger is a bit lost. I hope I didn't lose him; Carlos is trying to hold everything together until a new equilibrium can be reached." He paused and continued, "Speaking of loss, is Stephanie is really gone. There was much about her that was admirable."
I'm not sure there was much admirable about her, but maybe Michelle has absorbed Stephanie's good things. If some of the bad hasn't been fully lost and seeps through, I'm sure Mitch will beat it down."
He had to fight hard not to smile. "Babe, err, Michelle, I'd like to start over, move beyond the mess I made."
"It wasn't our time, Carlos. We were carrying too much baggage. We have to forgive ourselves and one another before we can ever see if that spark is still there and if it can be nurtured into a flame. Living in the past will doom a recovery.
"So how do we do this? Do we become friends first? It brings back shades of Morelli, I'm sorry."
"Ranger, drop it! We will never get anywhere if we keep looking over our shoulders. He is G-O-N-E. He was my Guzman."
Ranger was shocked she knew the name. "There's a difference, Guzman is dead."
"Are you sure? You were injured."
Ranger stared at her, he couldn't say the team brought Guzman's head which he personally removed before his fall as well as the tyrant's right hand back for confirmation. "I'm sure," he said quietly with conviction.
She stared at him, "If you need Morelli dead, I know a dozen or more men who will gladly do my bidding, though he seems to be doing a good job self- destructing. To get back to your question on how to do this, I believe our true hearts are still alive and if we can cut through all these new layers and contradictions, we have a chance. Our relationship should start from a new beginning, like today; dating, conversations, emails, and letters." She looked off and then back at him, "Ranger, neither of us was totally honest with each other before. I kept things from you and you from me. We can't keep doing that."
"Agreed; however, if some government imposed security issue arises that you do not have clearance, I won't be able to share that with you. Can you accept that?"
"Are you going to remain active?"
"I still have skills, no more running through third world countries, but even Rangeman has a secretive side."
She nodded, "You tell me honestly it is a legal issue or my knowledge might compromise the job, but don't lie to me because you think it might hurt me. I'm a lot stronger than you realize."
"I'm seeing that. And to prove I am upfront, I'm telling you now I was in Melbourne last week and had a long conversation with your father and met your nieces and Edna."
She was curious more than surprised, "How did you know where?"
"Julie and I saw Big Blue was cruising through Little Havana with Edna in the front seat."
"Grandma Mazur was driving Blue Blue in Miami?" She gasped.
He chuckled, that would have been a sight, "No she sold the car to a collector there."
"I didn't know. I've talked with my father only three times since last Christmas."
"Your father had taken his 'women' to Miami and they contacted to the new owner for one last ride. I got the license plate and called the owner. He told me Frank, Edna and the girls lived in Melbourne."
"So you know…."
"Yes, your father was very forth coming. He's still dealing with the pain he caused you."
She was quiet for a while. "How are they?"
"You'll be seeing them in a few weeks. You are in for a surprise."
"Good surprised?"
"Yes."
She smiled. Ranger hadn't seen that smile in a year; it beamed into him, filling him with joy and hope they'd have a future together.
"There it is," she whispered.
"What?"
"For a moment I saw the spark in your eyes," she said softly.
"Your smile ignited it."