His Christmas Gift ; Decadent Holiday Pleasures Page 3

  “You know I don’t share your religious beliefs...” Arjun said.

  Suddenly another hail of gunfire could be heard in the distance, the sound lasting longer than the former volley of bullets.

  “However,” Arjun continued, after the gunfire had subsided, “I’m willing to believe in your God tonight if he’ll get us out of this.”

  “There’s only one God,” Adam said. “We just call Him or Her by different names. So, call on whomever you wish.”

  “I’m an atheist,” Calvin said. “I believe we choose our own destiny. I’m choosing to come out of this alive. I’m willing it with all my might.”

  “Good,” Arjun said. “Then we agree that we’re all scared witless and are praying to whomever to get our butts out of this unscathed.”

  “Agreed,” said Adam.

  “Agreed,” said Calvin.

  “I most definitely agree,” said Maritza.

  “Women are much more articulate than men,” Arjun joked. “She had to use four words to your one.”

  They all quaked with fear when the sound of gunfire started getting closer to their location. Then there was a blast. Adam suspected a hand grenade. He felt the force of the explosion through the stone floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in case the subsequent tremors sent debris flying through the air. There were two more blasts, then silence.

  The door to the room was thrown open, and Number Three yelled, “Everybody up and out of here! We’re moving, and we’re moving fast.”

  The four scientists got up and followed Number Three down a darkened corridor that now had debris from collapsed walls dotting it. Emergency lights were flashing red. There was smoke in the air, and the scientists coughed and covered their noses with their sleeves. Adam saw other American soldiers in full gear, rifles held at the ready. He saw the facility’s personnel on the floor, either wounded or dead. But his group was moving so fast, he didn’t get a close look at much of anything. Soon they were outside and being bundled into a military vehicle. The four of them sat in the middle seat of the vehicle. There were two soldiers in the front, one of them the driver, and two in the rear seat, rifles aimed outside from lowered windows. There was a vehicle in front of them and another behind them. He could barely think with all the noise of gunfire, soldiers yelling to each other and an alarm that no one had bothered to disable.

  The convoy began moving, and Adam noticed all of the vehicle’s windows were now rolled up. He suspected the windows were bullet resistant. He tried his best to see his location. Where had he and his colleagues been held all this time? He gazed up at the building as the vehicle he was in sped away from it. It looked like an office building. Nothing special.

  Minutes later, as the vehicle kept moving and the driver got on an expressway, he realized that they were in Abu Dhabi, about an hour-and-a-half drive from Dubai. He recognized this area. He’d driven this very expressway. He and Arjun used to take long drives to explore and acquaint themselves with the cities of the United Arab Emirates.

  Arjun, too, had recognized where they were. “We’re in Abu Dhabi,” he said, his tone filled with wonder. “I guess whoever paid them to kidnap us didn’t give them a big travel allowance.”

  “I don’t care where we are,” Adam said, “as long as we’re on American soil soon.”

  “Agreed,” Maritza said with conviction.

  * * *

  Alia looked at herself in the full-length mirror, twirling around so that the soft fabric of the African-inspired print dress fell caressingly down her legs. Her mom stood nearby, watching her with a smile on her lips. “Your grandmother would be so proud,” she said.

  Debra Youngblood, a petite, golden-brown-skinned woman in her early fifties, wore an off-white pantsuit with a pearl choker as her only jewelry, except for her wedding band and engagement ring. Alia admired her mother’s simple but always fashionable manner of dressing. She tried her best to emulate her mother in that respect.

  She smiled at her mother in the mirror’s reflection. “I miss Grandpa Nero and Grandma Angelique so much.”

  “I do, too,” said her mother. “They were more like my parents than my in-laws. When they found out my parents were gone, they really tried to make me feel like family. And they were.” She carried on in a reverent tone as Alia went to the closet to pick a pair of shoes to wear to the gallery showing tonight.

  Alia loved hearing about Nero and Angelique Youngblood, the parents of her father, James. They were gone now. But Nero, who was a writer, had started a newspaper in Harlem in the thirties. From that humble beginning, the family’s company had grown to the mammoth company it was today. Nero, her parents liked to tell their children, was a man of taste and refinement. He’d known many women in his day, but had waited until he was forty to meet and marry the one woman for him: thirty-year-old Angelique. Angelique was an independent woman who didn’t care that her family was beginning to fear she’d never get married since she was an old maid at the ancient age of thirty.

  At any rate, Nero and Angelique must have been destined to be, because their marriage lasted fifty-five years before Nero passed away in his sleep, and Angelique followed eight years later, also in her sleep.

  “What I learned from your grandparents,” her mother was saying as Alia slipped into a pair of brown leather boots, the shade matching designs in her dress, “is that a marriage is a journey. No one stays the same. We’re not the same people we were when we were newlyweds. We’re not the same people we were when we started having children. Each of you children brought something rich and wonderful to our lives when you were born. That’s what you have to remember, Alia. When two people fall in love and decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together, they have to each be willing to let the other grow and change. Your father and I are willing to go with the flow. I hope the same for you and Chance and Brock, that you will live your lives with someone who will support your growth as a human being. That’s happiness.”

  Alia went and kissed her mother on the cheek. “That’s what Adam and I were working on before he disappeared.”

  “And you’ll continue to work on it when he returns,” Debra said reassuringly.

  Alia looked deep into her mother’s eyes. “I love you for still believing that’s possible, Mom. Some days I have to convince myself.”

  Debra patted her arm. “Don’t give up on him.”

  “Never,” Alia promised.

  * * *

  The gallery where Alia’s paintings were being shown was in Manhattan and exhibited contemporary art. It had been founded in Paris, she was told, and the owners opened a branch in New York City five years later and also had a branch in Zurich. The gallery’s curator, Armand Simone, a short, bald gentleman in a black suit and black-framed glasses, welcomed her and her parents, and immediately began introducing her to some of the gallery’s patrons. After an hour or so of this, Alia said she would like a few quiet moments before he introduced her from the podium, as he’d told her he would do later. She wanted to get what she wanted to say straight in her head before appearing before the more than two hundred art lovers who’d shown up.

  She was in Armand’s office in the back of the gallery with her parents when her cell phone rang, and she glanced down at the display. It simply read, US Government. Alia wondered who from the government would be phoning her. When the government contacted her, it was usually by mail. It seemed an archaic way of keeping her informed about Adam’s status, but that was how they liked to do it.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  The person on the other end didn’t say anything at first. However, she could hear someone breathing. He cleared his throat. “Alia Joie?” the voice said, sounding hoarse. “I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice.” He sounded as if he were fighting back tears.

  Alia had been standing, pacing the room as she went over the speech she’d prepared for tonight. Now, however,
her legs felt so weak she had to quickly sit down on one of the spindly mauve-upholstered chairs that looked like pieces of artwork in the curator’s office.

  Heart beating fast, she took a deep breath. “Adam? Oh, my God, is this really you?”

  Upon hearing her say Adam’s name, her parents both took tentative steps closer to her, their faces wearing astonished expressions. They were silent as she continued to listen.

  The deep voice chuckled, and Alia fairly melted. That sounded like Adam’s laugh. Rich and lusty, so full of mirth and joy. “You need proof besides the sound of my voice?” he asked. “Your birthday is September 27. We met at a charity event where I spoke and you asked me to have a coffee with you afterward. We were married ten months later in Nassau because you wanted to make sure all of my family could attend the ceremony. My mother loves you for that. I love you for so many more reasons.”

  Alia burst into tears. “Are you safe?” It had occurred to her that even though he was calling, apparently from some government office, maybe he wasn’t entirely safe yet. She thought that as soon as he was back on American soil, the government should have informed her.

  “I’m safe,” he assured her. “We were rescued two days ago in Abu Dhabi. At least I think it was two days ago. Time has a way of getting away from me lately. But I’m in the US, at the Pentagon. We were all rescued. Maritza, Calvin and Arjun and I are being debriefed here at the Pentagon. I’m told we’re going to be able to come home soon. I can’t say any more over the phone.”

  “I’m coming to you,” Alia told him, her mind made up. Her husband was back in the United States. Nothing, and no one, was going to keep them apart any longer if she could help it.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be released,” he said again.

  “I’m coming,” Alia said emphatically. “I’m at a gallery in Manhattan right now. They’re showing my work tonight, babe. My first show.”

  Adam chuckled again, sounding delighted that she was realizing her dream. “I’m so proud of you,” he breathed. “So proud. You don’t know how many times I imagined you in your studio, painting. But then, I imagined you in so many scenarios while we were apart. I’m relieved that you didn’t give up your art. It’s an important part of you. I prayed for you every night, that you’d grow stronger and even that you’d have the strength to go on if I never found my way back to you.”

  “Adam, I never gave up,” she told him. “Somehow, I knew we would find our way back to each other. I knew it in my gut.”

  “I never gave up, either,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve changed, though, babe. I’ve lost weight and had to cut my dreads off for sanitary reasons.”

  “Oh, no, not your dreads. You loved your dreads,” she moaned sympathetically. A beloved image of him, his dreadlocks falling down his back while they were walking hand in hand on a beach in the Bahamas, came to mind.

  “I’m bald now,” he warned her. “I still have a beard and mustache, though. What about you?”

  “I’m the same,” she said softly. “My ’fro is in braids now and they’re down my back.”

  “You stayed natural,” he said, sounding pleased. She knew he loved her natural hair. He used to wash it and oil her scalp. The feeling was so sensuous that they would often make love afterward.

  “God, I’ve missed you so much,” she said with a sigh.

  “I’ve missed you, too, my Joie,” he said huskily.

  Alia almost started bawling when he said that, because he always called her Alia Joie, not just Alia. He said she was his joy and you couldn’t leave out the Joie when you said her name. She encompassed everything he believed brought him happiness. She was so glad he considered her his joy.

  “I want you to go out there and be your brilliant self, babe,” he said. “Here’s the number where you can reach me. My cell phone got confiscated at the beginning of this nightmare.”

  After Alia had written down the number he recited, she took a deep, cleansing breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. “I can’t let you go,” she told him, sniffling. She was afraid to say goodbye. What if this was only a dream, and once she disconnected with him, she’d wake up and never experience this sublime feeling of relief and happiness again?

  “I’m back,” he told her. “I’ll never leave you again. It’s okay to hang up. I’ll see you soon. I swear it.”

  Her mother and father were looking at her with concern mirrored on their faces. Because she didn’t want to cause them any more distress, she bravely said, “Okay, but I’ll see you as soon as I can. Tomorrow. I love you!”

  “I love you, babe. With all my heart,” he said softly.

  “Goodbye,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Ah, babe, don’t cry. I wish I could hold you. You know I can’t stand it when you cry.”

  She laughed suddenly. “No, you never could. I’m going to stop this foolishness right now. I’ll call you tonight so we can talk each other to sleep.”

  “It’s a date,” he said.

  Hanging up on him was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  Chapter 3

  “Not even our spouses?” Maritza asked incredulously. Adam and the other three scientists were being debriefed by Colonel Edward Butler in a small conference room at the Pentagon after their return to the States. Colonel Butler had just informed them that they were not to tell anyone that they’d succeeded at inventing technology capable of disabling enemy missiles aimed at American troops.

  “Not even your spouses,” Colonel Butler, a tough man with iron gray hair and eyes to match, reiterated firmly. “We will make a statement to the press when permission comes down from the top. At the moment, it’s wise to forgo any publicity about the project due to national security concerns.”

  This bit of news was disappointing to Adam because Alia Joie hadn’t wanted him to take the assignment in the first place. Now he had to return home appearing to be an abject failure.

  Apparently, Maritza was also disappointed with the government’s decision to keep a lid on their success, because she narrowed her eyes at Colonel Butler and said in an icy tone, “Because of the government, I didn’t get to see my child take her first steps. My husband didn’t want me to accept the assignment, and now I have to go back home without having accomplished what we set out to do?”

  “Please, Dr. Aguilar,” Colonel Butler implored her, “try to understand.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Maritza said angrily. “You asked us to improve upon your technology. You already had the means to defuse some missiles, but we managed to invent technology that allows you to defuse every sort of missile. That’s good news!”

  “Indeed, it is,” agreed Colonel Butler. “I hope you realize that what you just said is the reason you were kidnapped. You created technology that defuses every kind of missile, and someone wanted to steal that technology. Until we feel secure in the knowledge that it won’t be stolen, we’re keeping quiet about its existence.”

  Adam reached over and clasped Maritza’s hand. “Don’t cause yourself any further distress, Maritza.” He looked Colonel Butler dead in the eyes. “We know how the government operates. We’ve had over two years to learn that lesson. They do things in their own time. And then they say their decisions serve the greater good. But I can’t see how letting us rot in Abu Dhabi for two years was for the greater good.”

  A muscle jumped in Colonel Butler’s face, and Adam knew he’d struck a nerve. “Are you saying we didn’t do everything in our power to rescue you and your colleagues, Dr. Braithwaite?”

  “I’m saying Agent Number Three, at least that’s what I call him, was in that facility for over a year before you all decided it was time to bust us out. What happened? You needed more time to gather intelligence so you waited over a year after you’d infiltrated the facility to initiate a rescue? That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “Me, too,” Maritza pu
t in, her eyes fiery with defiance.

  “Sounds fishy to me,” Arjun commented dryly.

  “I’m not saying anything,” Calvin said, his British accent rife with sarcasm. “I’m not a naturalized citizen yet, and I’m hoping my ordeal helps me to become one soon. I want to stay in this country.”

  Colonel Butler laughed shortly. “None of you have even a basic knowledge of military strategy. You’re scientists. I assure you, we got you out when we were reasonably sure we could do it without one of you getting killed in the process. I don’t know what sort of secretive practices you’re trying to assign to the government, but we are human, too, and we didn’t want you to suffer. I’m a prisoner of war myself. I know how it is to be separated from your loved ones.”

  Adam felt bad at hearing this, but no less bitter. “I’m sorry you had to experience that, Colonel, but I’m sure you understand why we feel this way. I’d only been married a couple months when I took the assignment. Maritza had a six-month-old little girl. Calvin and Arjun were in love.”

  “Um, not with each other,” Arjun clarified. “At any rate, the object of my affection is probably married with a child by now. She didn’t answer her phone when I tried to call her earlier, when we were allowed to call friends and family.”

  “Oh, Arjun, I’m sorry,” Maritza said. “Maybe she changed her number. It’s not necessarily because she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Colonel Butler looked kind of lost for words with all these emotions coming to the surface. His brows furrowed in either sympathy or confusion; Adam wasn’t sure which. “Your lives were disrupted. You’re afraid the people you cared about may not feel the same about you when you return home,” he said. “Believe me, I understand that, too. Military families live with uncertainty all the time. But strong families stay intact. We just have to have faith that those who love us will continue to love us.”