Page 16 of Ripple Effect
And maybe now that I’m stateside for a while, to see if Libby still needs some sunflowers.
Later as we’re listening to the eulogy, I’m trying to control my shock. I never would have put together that Elizabeth and Sam are two of the many grandchildren of the legendary Dahlia Akin, American heiress. I’ve known Sam for years, and although I’m certain it came up in his security check, he’s never lived above his Alliance salary.
As for Libby, all I can think about is my lips touching the rotgut wine she drank that night at the dark college bar.
It’s just another shock on top of all of the others today.
Over the eyes of the casket, I take in her devastated face that’s bravely trying to hold back tears while she comforts an older man who’s crying into a handkerchief. A man who looks to be about my age has his arms wrapped around the infamous Sydney in his lap while a pretty blonde lays her head on his shoulder. His other arm is curled around a tearful older woman. Next to them is Sam, proudly wearing the velvet hat and holding his mother’s hand while his father’s—Libby’s uncle—head is bowed. I recognize them from the pictures Sam showed me on the flight back to the States.
And suddenly it makes sense. To Libby, to Sam, this woman wasn’t Dahlia Akin. She was just Nonna.
The grief that permeates the air as a result is as strong as the scent of the flowers around the casket. And just as beautiful.
* * *
Akin Hill,located on a bluff running alongside the Cooper River, is a working plantation used not only for timber milling but for exquisitely handcrafted furniture sought after all over the world. It’s here that Dahlia Akin, matriarch to the logging company that spans back generations, is now buried among relatives that fought in the Civil War. Or, as the preacher jokes, “The War of Northern Aggression,” earning an equal amount of laughter and groans alike.
It’s here in the graveyard that rests in the shade of the duck pond I walk up and lay the bouquet of sunflowers for a woman I never met but one I’ve heard about on many a dark night from Sam. She helped influence not only him, but the woman whose smile on a normal day is brighter than the flowers now resting at the base of her casket.
Libby, who’s sitting in the front row with whom I assume are her parents, turns surprised, angry wet eyes on me when I stand back to my full height. I guess her young cousin didn’t go running to her when she left me and Sam earlier.
After devouring my fair share of a low country boil, Sam slaps a slab of cake in front of me. I pry my eyes off Libby’s demure beauty as she wanders between the tables amid the trees, greeting the family and friends who are celebrating in the way Dahlia Akin expressed she wanted to: with love, laughter, and “a good ole Southern picnic.” Sam explained once we sat down at a table overflowing with seafood, boiled new potatoes, and corn, “Nonna didn’t stand on ceremony with anyone. It’s what made her so beloved. Most people spend their whole lives trying to be like her, and not because of this.” He waved his hand that was holding a pimento cheese and ham sandwich to encompass the grand property we were standing on where everyone mingled while waiting for dinner to be served.
I take an enormous bite of the cake. “Jesus Christ, this is good.”
Sam nods while shoving in his own forkful. “That’s why I ran when they said dessert was ready. Libby made it. It was Nonna’s specialty; no one can make it like either of them.”
If I had any doubt before I was going to try to fight for the only person capable of bringing a smile to my heart with nothing but a thought, this cake sealed the deal—at least for my stomach. Shoving in another bite, the cream and pecans melt together on my tongue. “What’s in this, exactly?”
“Butter.”
Arching a brow, I mutter, “And now I know why you’re not our cook when we’re deployed.”
“I’m not kidding, Cal. Nonna used to say her coconut pecan cake has a ‘Southern amount of butter.’”
“How much is that exactly?”
“Don’t ask. Just eat it and accept you’ll work it off later.”
Taking his advice, I shove in another bite and let out a small moan of pleasure. Then I ask a question I never would have under different circumstances. “What made you join us, Sam?”
I know we can’t be overheard; there’s too much laughter for that. Stories are being told on top of stories. A couple of people even pulled out a few instruments—shit, is that a banjo? —and a few people are dancing in the late-afternoon sun. I’m surrounded by people who have no idea of the darkness that lingers beyond their reach and the fact it’s my job to protect them from it.
But it’s the men who stand to brush their lips across Libby—trying to brand what I’ve instinctively claimed as mine—that causes my jaw to clench. I haven’t failed at a mission yet, and the one to win Elizabeth Akin’s heart may be the one I give everything in to. She’s never going to know what hit her when I go after her with my charm, my mind, and what’s left of my soul.
If I have a heart, well, it may be up to her to find it. I think she might be the only one who can.
I tune back into what Sam’s saying. “I knew you were recruiting Iris,” he admits.
I’m shocked. “You’re kidding!” Iris Cunningham, Libby’s best friend, is our linguistics specialist and is often sent in on undercover assignments. On top of which, she has earned herself an irreplaceable spot on the team as our “little sister.”
All except for Sam, who’s fallen irrevocably in love with her starting with that long-ago dinner on her birthday their senior year in college. Fortunately, the feeling’s returned. Her heartbreak at not being able to be here for both her lover and her best friend is making her a crazy-ass bitch, I think. Not for the first time since I jumped on the flight yesterday am I glad we weren’t on the same assignment when we got the news. Her handler said she’s cursing everyone in the six languages she knows. “She’s devastated, Cal. There’s just no way to pull her out to be there without jeopardizing the mission.”
“Keep her in,” I ordered, cruelly. But I was the one who had to face a tearful Sam and break the news to him.
He understood; after all, they both knew what they were signing up for when they joined Alliance.
“Even though I wish she was here, I’m glad you are.”
