Page 3 of Save Me

Jamie smiles and nods before heading back into the kitchen to finish dinner. “I’m not sure how I’ll survive.”

I close the bathroom door and locate the bottle of ibuprofen, take three, then wash my face with cool water. Panic attacks always leave me drained and off-balance, not to mention embarrassed. Nothing like publicly reacting in unattractive and incapacitating ways. I sigh disgustedly at myself in the mirror. My usually glorious skin has become a sort of khaki color, and my eyes are red and threatening to puff up with suppressed tears. I push my fingers through the dark, thick waves of my hair until the knots are gone, and it’s returned to its proper sleek style. Then I smooth my mustache into place, curling the ends with my fingers. I reapply eyeliner and take a moment to be thankful I was blessed with naturally thick lashes. If I’d been wearing mascara, I’d look like a raccoon, black running everywhere, and wouldn’tthathave been humiliating. I brush my teeth to get the anxiety taste out of my mouth and when I finally look and feel almost like myself again, I take a breath and go back into the kitchen.

Jamie’s draining the pasta and looks up when I enter. “Just in time. We need to set the table and then we’re ready to eat.”

I pull plates from the cupboard, trying to be remotely useful. “Will Deputy Marshal Brown be joining us for dinner?” Jamie shakes his head, and I swear he’s blushing, although it’s difficult to tell with the steam from the hot pasta billowing into his face. “I see.” I smile and put the plates on the counter next to the stove, then finish setting the table. Having Jamie to myself is no hardship.

“We’ll switch duties once dinner is finished. I’ll head outside and he’ll take over inside. He can grab a bite then.” Jamie grins. “He gets cleanup.”

My heart plummets. “This is it then. Our last meal together.” Our last hour together. “But you’ll be here in the morning to take me to the courthouse?”

“Technically, I’ll be off duty. But if you want me to be here, I will be. I can grab a few hours of sleep and come back.”

I nod and consider. It seems like an incredibly selfish thing to ask, and I’ve already been a burden, but I really want him with me. The thought of going to court without him makes me ill. “Yes, please. Itwouldmake me feel better. I’m sure the other agents are fully capable, but it would be nice to see a friendly face before I go into court.”

“Then I’ll be there.” He says it so matter-of-factly that I don’t doubt him for a second.

“And you won’t get in trouble with your superiors?”

“It’s a bit unusual, but not rare. Some witnesses are just more comfortable with certain agents. It’ll be fine.” Jamie dishes out the pasta and sauce and we take our plates to the table. The mood is slightly melancholy, but that might just be me projecting again.

We eat in comfortable silence. After the afternoon I’ve had, I need the fuel. I’m certain Jamie does too. I have no doubt it’s draining to have to deal with my drama. “Dinner is delicious. Thank you for making it for us.” I want to reach out and take Jamie’s hand. I want to ask him if there’s a way we’ll ever see each other again. I do neither because I know the answer. After I testify tomorrow, they’ll whisk me away to the airport and everyone I ever knew will be off-limits. I mentally shake myself. It’s not that much of a hardship, really. I’m quite pleased about the fresh start. And if I keep telling myself that, I might believe it.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” Jamie blesses me with another of his smiles. “I’m gonna miss your company. But I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life wherever you’re going.”

“You don’t know?” That surprises me, almost as much as hearing he’ll miss me.

“No. I’m not involved in that part of your case.”

“Oh.” I can’t help being a little sad, though I suppose it makes sense for the safety of the witness. “Well, I’ve seen pictures. It seems lovely. No doubt I’ll take to my new life like a fish to water.” I force a smile.

“I’m sure you will.” Jamie sounds positive, which makes me feel slightly better, and more than a little disappointed at the same time. There isn’t much talk through the rest of dinner. We both make an effort, but the conversation drops off frequently. When we’re done eating, we rinse our dishes and stack them next to the sink, and Jamie pulls on his jacket.

With leaden feet, I walk with him to the door. He looks into my eyes and smiles. “It’s been a genuine pleasure to guard you, Ashley.” It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but either he can’t, or won’t. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll be here in the morning when it’s time to go.” I want to ask him what he was going to say. I want to hold his hand, to pull him with me into my room and curl up next to him in my bed. Before I finish the thought, he opens the door. “Good night, Ashley.” Then he’s gone.

1

Jamie

I pull down the last few yards of my parents’ long gravel driveway and swing my Land Rover in behind my father’s tan and black 2003 Ford F150. It still looks amazing for its age because my father takes care of her like he takes care of everything and everyone; with infinite patience and love. It’s why I drove the forty minutes out here on a Tuesday.

I turn off the engine and gaze out over the rolling hills of the farm where I grew up. The evening sun shines over the pastures, bathing everything in a warm golden light, and I soak in the peace and love that permeates this place. I take a breath, then push open the car door, slowly pulling myself from behind the wheel. Familiar scents of hay, cows, and honeysuckle hit me, and I stand still, letting it wash over me and soothe my aching heart. Yeah, coming home was the right thing to do.

Not that this is exactly my home anymore. I rent a tiny, but very nice house near town with a beautiful view of the water and an easy commute to the office, but the farm is home in a way my place isn’t, or ever will be. My parents are here, and my siblings and their families are in and out all the time. There’s a peacefulness about the place that calls us back, especially when we’re battered and bruised. Today, that’s exactly how I’m feeling, and I shouldn’t have waited so long to visit.

Over the past nine months I’ve tried to forget about Ashley; to stay busy with whatever will keep my mind occupied. I’ve thrown myself into work, I’m spending more time at the gym and I’ve even allowed myself to be roped into a weekly dart club, but I still think about him every day, and wonder if he’s alright, if he likes his new life and has made friends. I hope so. He deserves to have good friends. In moments of weakness I’ve been tempted to search his file and see how he’s doing, but that would not end well. Not for me. It would only tempt me to keep looking, which would lead to contacting him, and that could only bring disaster to both of us. It would damage my career, and potentially bring danger to him. It’s safer never to open that door.

I head toward the house, my mind and heart a jumbled mess. As I step onto the back porch and reach for the screen door handle, the inside door swings open and my mother rushes out to greet me, arms as wide as her smile. “Jamie!”

I sweep her up, lifting her off the ground and squeeze her tightly, pressing my face into her shoulder-length salt and pepper hair. The smell of green apples surrounds me, and I smile. “Hi, Ma.”

She laughs and hugs me back, then bats at my arm. “Put me down before you drop me!” It’s a ridiculous statement because she’s a petite woman, all of five foot one, and light as a feather, but I set her down as requested.

“Are you calling me a weakling? I’ve been working out.” I flex my arms for her, and she laughs even as she steps back and cocks her head at me, giving me a once-over and peering into my eyes. I stare back, letting my smile drop, because there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her. She’s been able to read every one of her children like a book since we were little. Besides, it’s a weeknight, with no family gatherings drawing me here, and no project on the farm needing my help. For me to show up like this, something’s off, and she knows it.

I get one of her gentle smiles, and she waves me into the house. “Come inside, love. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat.”

“I’m fine, Ma. I ate before I came.” My shoulders slowly drop from around my ears as I walk inside. I glance around the kitchen of my childhood home. It’s a large, bright room with white walls, a big bay window overlooking the pasture, hand hewn birch cupboards and a floor to match. In the center of the room is a large square wooden table where so many of our family milestones took place. We sat and did homework, ate meals, laughed, talked, and cried over a million different things, celebrated birthdays and anniversaries, all at this six-by-six table.

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