Chapter 1
Shannon International Airport clearly wasn’t built to accommodate modern travelers, Sy Jennings thought as he frantically searched the terminal for a plug socket. He wished he knew who to chew out, but he didn’t think an Irish layover station would care about an American soldier’s opinion. He cursed himself for not charging his laptop before he got the worst news of his life.
“You need to chill, Sy,” said Randy Sonnenfeld from somewhere behind him. “Stressing out won’t get you in touch any sooner.”
“You chill,” Sy said over his shoulder, trying his best not to look away from the mental path he had already carved through the civilian crowd. “I need a plug. I’m out of juice, and I need to call Ray.”
“It’s, like, Oh-Dark-Thirty back home, so the worst you can do is wake—” He pointed toward the right. “There’s one!”
Sy followed the finger to a segment of wall cut under one of the terminal’s many ramp walks. On a bench in the shadows sat three other Soldiers with laptops, all joined to one European-style surge protector … with one empty slot!
He quickly approached the gaggle and pointed at their power source. “Can I use that plug?”
The three junior troops scrambled to clear their laps so they could stand.
“Keep your seats,” he said, which stopped them. “I just need the plug, if you can spare it.”
“Sure, Sergeant,” said the one Specialist, a big guy with the name SHORTS Velcroed to his duty uniform. His buck Private companions resumed whatever they were doing.
“God bless you,” Sy said as he quickly set down his assault pack and unzipped each pocket he needed. He freed his laptop, unrolled his power cord, and hooked it all up through his handy 220-volt adapter. Sadly, no matter how much he willed his two-year-old laptop to hasten its startup process, its slow loading speed taunted him.
Randy stood over him. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
Sy glared at his battle buddy as if he had just blown his nose into his uniform. “She’s five, Randy, and she just lost her mother.”
Randy crouched down with a hand on Sy’s shoulder. “And you just lost your wife, so you need to slow down. Your kid’s not going to be scarred for life because you didn’t email.”
The laptop finally finished its startup routine. Sy rushed through the various clicks to link up with the airport’s free Wi-Fi service. “I’m trying to open chat.”
Randy patted Sy’s back and stood back up. “Good luck, man. If I remember from our ride over, the free net here is slower than pond water.”
His connect window beeped, making him smirk. He opened his messenger program, but the hourglass icon lingered in an unbearable loop.
Randy shrugged. “Told you.”
Sy rolled his eyes. “Are you here to help or remind me how screwed up my life is?”
The loveable jerk sat next to him against the wall. “I’m here because my battle buddy’s hurting, and the commander knew you’d need me.”
Sy scoffed. “You barked at her to let you go. I’m surprised she didn’t—”
All the air in the massive terminal vanished, and Sy stared helplessly across the space.
A ghost from his past emerged from the restroom foyer, carrying a gray backpack a shade darker than her Cardigan. Her fit body sat on a bench with a local magazine, her small hands placing the bag at her feet. That flowing blond hair, those green eyes, that elegant face.
He didn’t want to believe what he was seeing, but he couldn’t deny it. It was her, and his guts sank as fast as the moment he had heard of his wife’s death.
A hand flashed before him, summoning him from his shock. “You okay, man?”
Sy glanced at Randy, then back at the bench. She was still there. He wasn’t dreaming. The last time he’d seen her, she was gabbing with her friends at graduation. Now, after eight painful years, she was reading a magazine in the same airport terminal across the Atlantic Ocean.
His already beleaguered heart raced. His palms began to sweat.
“What, man?” Randy asked. “You look spooked.”
Sy nodded ahead. “Shauna Singer. I went to high school with her.”
Randy beheld the beauty with a measure of surprise. “Damn, I should’ve gone to your high school.”
Sy shook his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered. She was a huge crush, and it was not returned. What is she doing here?”
Her eyes suddenly looked over her magazine and found Sy’s.
A wave of panic shot through him. All he could do was look away and breathe. Barely.
Randy shrugged indifferently. “So she’s here. What’s the big deal?”
Sy focused on his connection as if he would lose it otherwise. “I can’t handle this right now. I’ve got enough to worry about here.”
“It might help to think about something a little less painful.”
“Not in this case.”
Randy recoiled. “Why? What happened?”
“Drop it!” Sy snapped before his friend could say something else monumentally wrong.
Randy glared back like he wanted to start swinging, but he scoffed and stood. “I’m going to hit the latrine.” Then he crossed the terminal, giving Shauna a passing glance on his way into the restroom area. He seemed to like what he saw. How could he not?
She didn’t seem to notice, nor did she look Sy’s way. Maybe she retreated into her old cocoon and pretended he wasn’t there. He wanted that to be enough, but her presence kept pulling his gaze. Age had barely touched her angelic face, as if she was still the same sweet classmate he last knew back in Iowa. Her girl-next-door visage was just as perfect as—
She noticed him again, making him flush with fear again.
His chat program finally connected. He cheered to himself and pulled his headset from his bag. He scrolled down his contact list and double-clicked RAY while plugging and donning his headset. Unfortunately, his neighbor didn’t answer. He tried again, then again. Hoping it wasn’t the connection, he dared to test it on another contact, so he clicked on the one aptly labeled THE SHREW.
A long silence followed before that famous old ringtone warbled. And warbled. And warbled. Come on, come on, he thought, willing the damn thing to connect.
A click surprised him, and that shrill voice pierced his eardrums. “It’s about time, Sy!”
He flinched. “About time? What do you mean? I was just test—”
“My sister was just killed,” the Shrew roared, “and now my niece is an orphan.”
His gut churned while he wondered how she found out. “I’m still here, you know.”
“No, you’re not here. You’re gallivanting around the world.”
He rolled his eyes. “What I do hardly counts as gallivanting, Diane.”
“What you do got Jackie killed, and you weren’t even there,” the Shrew shouted.
Heat flashed through his head so fast, he was seeing red. “You’re blaming me for this?”
“She wouldn’t have gotten crushed by a drunk driver if your commander hadn’t summoned her. What was so important that cost her life?”
He wanted to throttle her, but he knew it would only make things worse … and she was thousands of miles out of reach. “I’m not doing this with you. I was just testing my line because my neighbor’s not answering.”
“Your neighbors aren’t home. Peggy’s been sitting on her for the last two days, calling me for help several states away. I’ll get rid of that lush as soon as I get there, and Carmen’s coming home with me.”
“The hell she is! She’s my daughter.”
“Not if you’re playing guns in your sandbox, Sy.”
“I’m on my way to her right now. I’m just laid over in—”
“Then we’ll see who gets there first,” she said snidely before the connection terminated with a merciless click.
He yanked his headset from his ears and tossed it, though its cord snapped it back. He grabbed his head to keep from throwing the whole laptop, his blood boiling hotter by the second.
What can she really do? he asked himself with a few deep breaths, drawing upon all those resiliency training classes the Army made him take and willing the cool air to tame his fury. Even if Diane got there first and took Carmen, she couldn’t keep her. She already had two kids of her own, which her lawyer husband would remind her she would lose if charged with kidnapping. The thought of his wretched sister-in-law behind bars made him smile, which slowed his racing pulse a bit.
He opened his eyes to find the nearby soldiers focused intently on their laptops.
Across the terminal, Shauna’s bench was empty. Maybe she ran for the hills like he expected her to. Their last meeting wasn’t exactly the most pleasant, so he was surprised she hadn’t—
“Can I help you, sir?” came out of nowhere, startling him.
Shauna stood over him with crossed arms and an irritated glare. He tried to form words, but he couldn’t speak. He did, however, notice something very different about her, and not just the way maturity had blessed her body. Her gaze was tougher; warier, like a seasoned veteran. And, though he wasn’t sure, her melodious voice sounded a little—
“I dunno how it is in yer States, but here starin’s considered rude,” she scolded him … with an Irish accent.
He tried to comprehend what he had just heard. Shauna was as American as he was, yet the thick brogue coming from the woman before him sounded as natural as a native. The ire in her heated gaze also differed from their last encounter. It wasn’t the dulling of time; it was fixed on something in the present … like she didn’t know him at all.
Faux-Shauna leaned forward, her brows flashing up expectantly. “Do ye understand anythin’ I’m sayin’?” she asked impatiently, the twist of her head revealing a scar peaking from the collar of her pale gray sweater.
“You don’t know who I am,” he muttered in surprise.
She recoiled. “Should I? Did you get a medal in your war or somethin’?”
The confusion flooded his head. He shook it away to keep from passing out. This really wasn’t his high school crush, and he wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I thought you were someone else.”
She scoffed. “Normally, a man uses that old line when he’s approached a woman.”
The three soldiers stared at him anxiously. He stood before this familiar stranger and defended himself. “I’m serious. You look exactly like someone I knew.”
“And who is this doppelganger of mine?” she asked hotly. When he failed to answer, owing to the painful subject he didn’t want to unearth more than he had, she snapped at him again. “Well? Are ye gonna tell me, or is it just a lie? And, if that’s the case, what are ye after then?”
Sy struggled to speak.
“Sorry about my friend, ma’am,” came from behind her. Randy passed the irate local and slapped his hands onto Sy’s shoulders. “He just lost his wife, and he’s trying to get back to his kid. He’s in a really bad place right now.”
The ire in those familiar eyes slowly abated as she regarded Sy with mild sympathy. She looked him up and down and nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said more softly, then awkwardly turned and walked away.
Sy watched her cross the terminal and retake her seat by the bathroom foyer.
Hands released and smacked his shoulders. “You’re welcome.”
Sy cocked a brow at Randy. “You heard all that?”
“Good thing it wasn’t actually her,” Randy said with a smug grin, then pointed at the laptop. “Did you get through?”
Sy sighed, trying hard not to look at the stranger with his old crush’s face. “I got the Shrew. She’s on her way to my house right now.”
Randy recoiled. “What happened to Ray?”
“Not there, apparently, so she’s with Peggy,” Sy replied while stealing another glance at the local doppelganger. Her eyes seemed fixed on her magazine, much like the way Shauna had stared at her romance novels back in high school. The similarity was alarming.
Randy flinched. “Peggy? Didn’t you fire her for stealing your hooch and hooking up with some dude on the clock?”
Sy nodded.
“Why didn’t Jackie just take Carmen with her?” the idiot muttered, then quickly rebounded with, “Oh, wait, good thing. Sorry, man.”
Sy thanked God that didn’t happen as he shook his head. “I don’t even know why the Rear-D commander even called her. It’s not like the nominations went through that quickly.”
“Maybe Captain Bailey wanted to be someone’s hero after being stuck in Fort Stewart.”
Sy failed to see how that would happen, especially after the way things went down. He wasn’t sure he wanted the nomination anymore. For all its pomp and circumstance, the award slowly working its way up the channels threatened to serve as a painful of reminder of what he had just lost, feeling as if it meant that her death was ultimately his fault. No wonder Diane was extra shrew-y.
“Aw, man!” Randy groaned.
Sy frowned at him. “What?”
His buddy pointed at the travel board, which told him their flight had arrived, but something scrolled along the bottom to the effect of a problem with the aircraft requiring a change that would delay their departure for half an hour before they would board.
“Great,” Sy muttered before his eyes fell to the stranger’s bench, which was empty. He quickly found her sitting at the counter of the nearby Sheridan Bar & Restaurant, motioning for the tender’s attention. They exchanged words—maybe flirted, given the way they smiled at each other—and the leering barkeep poured her a beer. That beautiful grin of hers so closely resembled Shauna’s, right down to the faint dimple on her left cheek. He couldn’t believe she was just a random stranger, but he also couldn’t fathom Shauna pulling such an elaborate ruse to blow him off. Everything about her matched, as if she was—
An alarm rang in his head, reminding him to rein in his obsessive nature. He needed to stop thinking about this.
“Thinking about a drink?” Randy asked with a suggestive grin.
Sy smirked. “Not in uniform, and certainly not under the circumstances.”
His buddy waved him at the blonde duplicate. “If these aren’t them, what will be?”
Sy rolled his eyes and forced himself to pack his bag, thanking Specialist Shorts for the use of his surge protector. He headed for more open seating to face away from her, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from her. Obsession or not, he had to know.
