Page 71 of Troy Story
“I mean, if it’s menstrual cramps, you don’t have to pretend it’s a stomach bug. There’s no shame in having your period. It’s part of your natural cycle.”
Whoa. That was not where she expected the conversation to go.
He continued. “I’ve been a single father since Clarissa was a baby. Even with nannies and housekeepers to help out, I still got a crash course in puberty when she turned twelve. She used to have such bad cramps that she’d miss school. A few times, I stayed home from work to keep her company.” He gave a wistful sigh. “I wish I’d done it more often. I loved our time together. For what it’s worth, she found chamomile tea to be helpful.”
“Um…thanks. I’ll see if we have any in the pantry.” Dusty was tempted to tell Mort the truth since he’d probably jump at the chance to assist her on another covert operation. But she couldn’t risk involving anyone else until she found more evidence.
“Do you want me to stay at the field house with you?” Mort asked.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”
Though his concern was touching, she was relieved when he dropped her off and drove away. As soon as his car was out of sight, she bolted inside, ran to Dr. Hughes’ room, and tried the door. Locked. Giving a huff of exasperation, she went to the kitchen to find the spare set of keys. Hadn’t Stuart told her he kept them in one of the drawers?
But after opening every drawer, looking through the pantry, and poking around the cupboards, she came up short. Maybe Stuart had tucked them away in his room. She went into it, smiling at the neatly made bed and the orderly way he’d arranged his belongings. Seeing the bed filled her with a pang of longing. She wanted to spend the night with him again. To feel his arms around her, hold nothing back, and nestle in his embrace until they drifted off to sleep.
Stop it. You need to focus.
Shaking off her daydreams, she searched every inch of his tiny room. She checked the drawers in his nightstand, the inside of his wardrobe, the pockets of his suitcase. Nothing. Would he have taken the keys to the site? Doubtful, since he’d be at risk of losing them. They had to be somewhere in the field house.
But where?
She blew out a frustrated breath. Faking illness had been a bold move, but she’d done it for nothing. Since she was stranded at the field house until the others came back, she could work in the lab. But first, she had to change into something resembling pajamas. In case anyone else returned early, she needed to keep up the appearance of being sick. She went into her room and rooted through her pack, only to realize how few clean clothes she had left. A peek inside her stinky, overstuffed laundry bag made her reel in disgust.
She’d planned to do a load last weekend, but the washing machine had been in high demand. With the field house to herself, she could catch up on her laundry. After shucking off her hiking boots and changing into a comfy pair of shorts, she hauled her laundry bag over to the washing machine, which was set in an alcove by the back door.
She dumped her clothes into the machine, but as she was scooping a cup of powdered detergent onto them, she recalled what Stuart had told her about the spare keys. Hadn’t he said he wanted to put them somewhere Hughes wouldn’t think to look?
Since he refused to do his own laundry, this was the last place he’d be snooping around.
Beside the washer was a wooden cabinet used for holding detergent and bleach. She opened one of the top drawers, only to find it filled with junk: screws, rubber bands, nails, paper clips, and random pens. But in the drawer beside it?
A full set of keys.
* * *
During the morning break,Stuart’s thoughts kept turning to Dusty. In all the years he’d known her, she’d rarely been hampered by illness or cramps. Even when she was sick, she often powered through her discomfort and kept working.
Still, if she wasn’t feeling well, at least she’d been sensible enough to take a break. Maybe she’d actually rest once she was back at the field house.
Setting his water bottle down, he turned to Clarissa, who sat beside him on the blanket. “Did Dusty seem off this morning? It’s not like her to get sick.”
She held up her hand, waiting to speak until she’d finished eating. Like Dusty, her favorite morning snack was peasant bread loaded with cheese and tomatoes. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to talk with my mouth full. She seemed fine, but I wasn’t in the trench that much. I stopped by the Germans’ site to visit Leo and spent longer there than I intended. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re here as a volunteer. Thanks to your strudel, our two teams aren’t fighting anymore. How are things with Leo?” If nothing else, Stuart was glad Operation Strudel had brought her and Leo together. The two of them made an adorable couple.
She gave him a shy smile. “They’re good. It’s nothing serious, just a fun summer fling.”
“That’s the best kind.”
“But you and Dusty want more than that, don’t you?”
Her question caught him off guard, but he allowed himself to speak honestly. “I hope so. Since we’ll both be in Boston this fall, I’d like us to stay together.” He still hadn’t talked to Dusty about it. Later today, when he went to check on her, he could bring it up or at least mention the place he’d rented for them in Istanbul.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder, startling him so much he choked on a tea biscuit. “Stuart. I need to talk to you.” Dr. Hughes stood over him, his face contorted in agony.
Stuart coughed and cleared his throat, hoping the older man hadn’t heard him talking about Dusty. “Are you all right?”
“No. My stomach’s in knots, and my head’s pounding. Normally, I’d keep working, but I don’t want to risk getting worse. Given that Dusty had the same symptoms earlier, I suspect there’s a bug going around.”
