The Colonel's Daughter: SAND Part 1 Page 4

  Abby remained silent while looking at her mother’s long red fingernails as she stirred her tea. All she could think about was Dallas, and how she wished he had told her more about her father. Their brief lunch together left her wondering why her dad had sent a bodyguard and she regretted telling him that she could take care of herself because now he was gone. She thought maybe if I look out the window one more time and if he’s there, I can go talk to him.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Susan gasped. “Today is the final walk-through for a very important client. Why don’t you come with me?” Susan’s voice rose to a higher octave with each word. “You will absolutely love this villa and we can have lunch afterwards. What do you say honey?”

  Abby peered out the window examining the street below. There was no sign of Dallas’s truck. “Sure mom, I’ll come with you.”

  “Where is this villa anyway?” Abigail asked sitting as an inquisitive passenger in her mother’s SUV.

  “It’s on Fisher Island.” Her mother shrieked.

  Abby had accompanied her mother to Fisher Island on a few occasions. Behind the glamour of the island, she discovered the unique beauty of exotic birds like the colorful peacocks that parade around as owners and protectors. She tagged along as Susan toured her buyers around the two deep-water marinas that could be accessed by yacht, seaplane and its round the clock car ferry. Abby would listen to her mother go on and on about the Spanish Architectural style of the villas depicting its signature red barrel tile roofs.

  Susan clasped the steering wheel. She kept her eyes fixed on the road. “You should see this place, Abby. It’s the best one on the island. When you swim in the private pool,” she motioned waving her arm in the air, “All you see for miles and miles is pure ocean.” She gripped the steering wheel again.

  “All you see is ocean?” Abby raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that…don’t tell me you swam in the pool, mom.”

  “Don’t be a smarty pants. I didn’t swim in it. I’m just tellin’ you how I imagine it would be. How else am I supposed to sell something if I don’t imagine what it would feel like?”

  “So who’s this rich client of yours?” Abby tossed a piece of gum into her mouth and checked her black eyeliner in the visor mirror then noticed Dallas’s blue pickup truck following close behind.

  “My client is a very wealthy Arab.” Susan said in a gossip—whisper. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him in person. I’ve only met with his assistant.” Susan’s bracelets jingled every time her arms moved with excitement. “The commission I’m earning will pay for the rest of your tuition and will buy us both a new car.”

  “I don’t need a new car, mom. Mine runs just fine.” She kept an eye on the truck in the mirror.

  “Well then I will buy myself a sports car and you can take this one. It’s a lot newer than the one you have now.”

  “No thanks. What am I going to do with an SUV?” Abby nodded her head in disbelief.

  “Abby, darling, you’re going to have to get rid of that gum. We’re about to get on the ferry. I don’t want you chewing gum in front of my client.”

  “Why are you so excited to meet an Arab? What about dad?”

  “Sweetheart, not everyone is the enemy. You can’t think that way. Your dad would not want us to think that way.”

  Abby folded her arms and gave a thousand yard stare out the passenger window.

  * * * * *

  “Madame, Mister Shahrivar had to fly back to his country,” explained Faisal the bony Arab brother-in-law.

  “Unless you have power of attorney, he needs to be here to sign these papers,” Susan declared holding a large manila envelope.

  “His son will be here to sign. The villa is for his son, Maurice.” Faisal’s black eyes followed Abby who walked past the living room towards the French doors.

  Her artistic eye paid close attention to the detail of the design in the crown molding leading to the patio. She opened the doors and could faintly hear her mother discussing with Faisal that a particular chandelier would not be included with the sale.

  Abby stood outside at the wrap-a-around veranda with her eyes fixed on the ocean view. She imagined herself sitting in front of an easel capturing the splendor of such a color palette with oil on canvas. Her eyes focused on a unique pattern of pastels, in a row of blooming rose bushes, perfectly aligned along the edge of the patio next door. She noticed a red haired woman sunbathing by the pool near the roses.

  A moving shadow caught Abby’s attention and out of the corner of her eye, she saw two men in grey suits walking along the outer fence of the woman’s yard.

  Abigail took a step back hiding behind a large potted plant. She took a deep breath and looked again. This time she noticed a man walking on the tiled roof of the same villa. She had difficulty swallowing and thought about running back inside but was afraid to be seen. She watched from between the branches of the tall plant as two men climbed over the concrete wall and ran towards the sunbathing red head. Another one leaped from the tiled roof to the woman’s porch and pulled out a gun. The lady struggled to get away but the guy with long black curls placed a handkerchief over her face and she passed out. The same guy placed her body over his left shoulder and took her inside the house.

  Thinking she was in the clear, Abby dashed to meet her mother only to catch a glimpse of the man still standing on the porch holding a gun. He looked at Abigail but before she could see his reaction, she ran inside.

  “Mom! Mom!”

  “Not now honey. My client has arrived.” Susan put a heavy hand on Abby’s shoulder. “Maurice, I would like you to meet my daughter, Abigail.”

  Abby’s eyes scanned the room noticing several men with the same grey suits.

  “Hello, Abigail. I believe we’ve already met.” Maurice extended his hand but Abby was too preoccupied.

  “Mom, there’s something I want you to see in the patio. You really should come with me to take a look.” Abby gave her mother a big smile and thought, if I could just get my mother to the veranda we might have a better chance to escape.

  “Abigail Johnston, what has come over you?” Susan wrinkled her brow. “I must apologize for my daughter’s behavior. Something tragic happened to her father recently and she has been deeply affected.”

  Maurice smiled and with an attempt to appease both mother and daughter said, “I’m afraid that your daughter may have probably seen some strange happenings next door. My head of security did some checking on our new neighbors, and as it turns out the man who lives next door is a drug dealer who has gotten himself mixed up with some very bad people. But you don’t have to be afraid, Abigail. My men are here to protect you.”

  Susan’s pale face broke into a smile of red lipstick and white teeth. “Well that explains everything. Don’t mess with them and they won’t mess with us, right Abby?”

  Maurice’s words did not assuage her. But for her mother’s sake, she decided to play along. “You’re right mom. I actually know Maurice. He’s in my English class.” Then turning to Maurice, she feigned a smile, “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

  Insisting that he sign the revised purchase contract, Susan placed the paperwork in front of her client then added, “It’s so wonderful to have you attend school here with my daughter,” then congratulated him on his new purchase.

  While back out on the veranda, Abby caught sight of the grey suits boarding a yacht in the marina off in the distance. She jumped, suddenly startled by Dallas, as he swung his body off the barrel tile roof and onto the terrace. He wore a pair of black jeans and black steel toe boots. His t-shirt, pulled tight across his strong chest, revealed an incredibly toned body. He brought his index finger over his lips. With one look at his dimpled smile, Abby no longer felt restless.

  When she smiled back, Dallas looked at her beautiful smile and gazed into her brown eyes and once again, his heart raced to a dangerous number of beats per minute. It was the kind of heart pounding that would bring tunnel vision to a s
niper, making it nearly impossible to aim a rifle.

  “You’re in a lot of danger. I have to get you out of here.” He whispered.

  “My mother’s inside. I can’t leave her.”

  An armed man walking on the veranda approached Abby. Dallas quickly rounded the corner and hid against the wall.

  “Is my mother ready to go?” Abby asked.

  He nodded and motioned with his gun for Abby to follow him inside.

  Abby returned to her mother and before they could leave, Maurice asked, “Would you two ladies like to accompany me for dinner Monday night after the closing of my new purchase?”

  Abby looked at her mother hoping she would say no but Maurice insisted that he had no one else with whom to celebrate the purchase of his new home. To Abby’s dismay, Susan obliged.

  Mother and daughter safely boarded the ferry not knowing that Maurice had asked two of his men to follow the ladies with strict orders not to be seen.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  Capt. Santos sat in a wheel chair with his broken leg extended.

  “Dorothea, how did I end up in Tampa, Florida?” He studied her hands taking his blood pressure.

  She squinted as she stuck a flat disposable thermometer under his tongue, and veering left to make sure no one was listening, she whispered, “I overheard that you insisted they bring you to Tampa. They was just followin’ your orders.”

  Javi hung his head in silence.

  “You must be somethin’ special. Cause ain’t no one around here get that kind of treatment.”

  His hands formed a fist as he tried to remember.

  Dorothea raised her voice saying, “Why don’t I go get that sweet girl Jasmine to take you outside. It’s about time you breathe some fresh air.” She noticed Javi’s crooked smile appear at the mention of Jasmine’s name.

  He motioned for her to come back as she headed towards the door, “I got to ask you something first.”

  “Better make it quick, I need to change a man’s diapers across the hall.”

  “Dorothea, do you believe in angels?”

  “Have you been sneaking extra pills off my cart?”

  “No, I’m serious.” He looked up. “I remembered something today.”

  “Sure, I believe in angels. How you are alive today with the type of injuries written on your chart, I do not know. You got some kind of angel protecting you, that’s for sure.”

  His eyes then looked down as he focused his mind inward. “There was an explosion and I felt my body being thrust in the air. Capt. Joshua Wittemore saved my life. He protected me. He was my guardian angel.” His mind drifted in deep recollection.

  “From what I’ve heard around here and from what I seen on the news, you are a blessed man. God must have an important mission for you.” Dorothea walked out the door.

  Jasmine entered the hospital room wearing a soft pink sweater. Her blond hair neatly picked up in a ponytail, and her fragrance filled his room with the scent of sweet violets. “The doctor gave the ok for you to venture outside. It’s such a lovely day. Not too hot, not too cold.” Her voice was a smooth melody.

  “So, doc. is letting me out? Sounds good to me,” he cleared his throat, “I need to warn you, I got a lot of pent-up energy. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into taking me outside.”

  “Well you seem okay to me. I guess I’ll take my chances.” She backed his wheelchair into the elevator.

  “Wow…I haven’t heard birds squawking like this in a long time.” He shielded his eyes from the sun.

  “They’re chirping. Squawking makes it sound like they’re being so aggressive. Even better, they’re singing.”

  “Did you see that little guy right there?” Javi pointed at a bird distracting Jasmine while extending his other arm and with a quick-draw grabbed a pair of blue geraniums that bordered the path.

  “I don’t see him, where?” She looked around.

  “Right, there…look at him…he is fighter, he’s definitely squawking.”

  She caught him taking the soft beauties.

  “Hey, keep your hands in the vehicle at all times, mister.”

  He lifted the flowers and gave them to her. She stopped to admire her lovely gift.

  A young orderly pushing a wheelchair came to rest beside them. The passenger was a wounded Sergeant Major who addressed Javi using military jargon.

  “Want some lifer-juice soldier?” Holding up a thermos filled with coffee.

  “How are you doing sir?” Javi saluted from his wheelchair.

  The Sgt. Major gulped his coffee. “Sure beats that dirka stuff we drank out there.”

  “No thank you sir.” Wrinkling his nose, Javi looked at Jasmine.

  “So tell me. How’s that Full Bird…Colonel Johnston doing? I heard about what happened to your boys at the chow hall. I wonder if the old Colonel knows you’re still alive.”

  Javi scratched his neck.

  Jasmine put her hand on Javi’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry but Capt. Santos doesn’t remember many details right now. He needs more—”

  “It’s okay Jasmine.” Javi interrupted, “My mind’s been clearing up a bit. I actually had a dream with the old Colonel. He kept asking me to come to Tampa.”

  Sergeant Major looked up at the male orderly. “Better quit shamming around. I need to hit the head pronto.”

  The orderly chuckled as he pushed the wheelchair.

  Jasmine smiled at Javi. “Somebody really needed to go to the bathroom.”

  Javi chuckled.

  “Shamming…haven’t heard that one in a while. The Colonel used it a lot on the guys when they pretended to be working thinking he wouldn’t notice.” Javi’s eyes lingered on Jasmine’s chest.

  She gripped the wheelchair and pushed forward. “Are you sure you weren’t one of those guys he yelled at?” She stopped near a bench and took a seat.

  “Me? No, not me,” He smirked.

  “It is not my intention to pry into your personal life but my job is to find out information about your family. Colonel Johnston, I’ve seen him on the news. He’s a hostage in Afghanistan. Did you know him well? If you remember anything else, please tell me. I want to help you find your family. It’s not fair that you stay alone.”

  Javi stared at Jasmine’s soft features and rosy lips and felt comforted. Years of burying personal information from the world had made it nearly impossible to excavate but her sweet demeanor plowed through his dry field of thoughts. “The Army has been my life for so long. All those guys are my family.” He agonized over the thought of looking into the dead eyes of his friends at the mess hall. He drew a breath and continued, “When I first got to Helmand Army Camp, there was a large auditorium with a thousand guys ready to watch a movie. I don’t even know the title. I walked in just as the National Anthem began. All of us snapped to attention. Something must’ve happened to the music because it just stopped. Those guys didn’t move. You could hear a pin drop. The music started up again but something happened and it shut off completely. Most people that age, around here, would probably be yelling obscenities just to start the damn movie. But not these guys, they stood at attention. And suddenly a thousand men sang in unison,” he sniffled, and quietly sang, “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” He paused, “That’s my family,” placing a hand across his bandaged forehead covering the tears in his eyes.

  Unable to speak, Jasmine reached in the pocket of her sweater drawing out a tissue to wipe her own tears.

  Out of the deep recesses of his heart, Javi verbalized his emotions as best he could. “The Marines have their Semper Fidelis, their Latin motto for always faithful. It’s an immensurable connectivity that all Marines have with one another. We have our Latin motto, Sine Pari—without equal—because our Special Forces Teams are the ones called in the face of overwhelming odds. There’s a sense of family within the Special Forces that no one will ever understand. You tell me it’s not fair I stay alone. I want you to under
stand I’m not alone. I have a sense of belonging. But if the doctor was to tell me I’m out because of my injuries, I really don’t know what I would do.”

  Jasmine fidgeted with the blue geraniums still in her hands. “I’ve heard soldiers say there’s no such thing as a former Marine. Once a Marine always a Marine, I’m sure it’s the same for the Green Berets.”

  “So you know I’m a Green Beret?” Javi asked.

  “I read your file.” Jasmine smiled. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.

  “So now you know all this stuff about me. Tell me something about yourself. How did you get to have such a cute little girl? She’s like a miniature replica of you.”

  “Believe me, Samantha’s a handful.” Her eyes lit up then in an instant she grew somber again. “Her daddy was killed by an IED in Afghanistan. She was too young to really known him. She’s so strong and brave. You should see her play against all those boys in baseball. I know she definitely gets those qualities from her father.”

  “Don’t sell yourself so short. I mean…here you are working at this place even after your husband was killed in the war. You’re raising a kid on your own. It sounds like you’re pretty brave yourself.”

  She stared at his crooked smile and gave a timid grin before looking down at the geraniums. “I never knew my father. It breaks my heart to see Samantha have to go through something similar. My mom had me at a very young age and she never married. She told me they were just a couple of kids fooling around and then my father went off to be in the military. She never heard from him again. I know what it’s like to grow up not having a dad.”

  “Here you are trying to help me find my parents, how about I help you find your father? I’m serious, has anyone ever helped you try to find him?”

  “No, no one’s ever offered to help me find my father. That’s very sweet of you. I’m tired of asking my mom about it. She just refuses to have the subject brought up. She says she doesn’t know where my father could be.” She grew silent. Then said, “Never mind my father, I’m getting paid to find your immediate family members and if necessary, to help you in your transition to civilian life.”