16
Jenna could tell something had changed. There was a tension in the air and more people in the building than before, all of them closed-mouthed and in a hurry. Derek spent the day with Javier and their team behind closed doors with little time for anything else. Even Elizabeth was quiet.
It left Jenna with butterflies in her stomach.
She knew they must be working hard on their plan to get her out of the country, so she tried to occupy herself by reading one of the books that Elizabeth had brought for her. But her heart wasn’t in it. She needed todosomething, to contribute in some way, rather than feeling helpless and afraid.
She made her way down to the infirmary to see if she could help Sean, only to find the door locked and the lights out. Apparently, the infirmary wasn’t staffed unless someone needed medical help.
From there, she made her way to the mess hall. It, too, was closed, the salad bar and steam tray empty, self-serve cookies, rolls, and fresh fruit sitting near the coffee pots. From the back, she heard the banging of pots and pans.
She followed the sound—and the scent of roasting meat. “Hello?”
A burly older man in a white chef’s uniform stepped out of the back room. “Can I get you something, Ms. Hamilton? We’ll be open for lunch in two hours.”
“Can I help? I’m tired of doing nothing.”
He seemed to hesitate. “Let me clear it with Doc.”
A moment later he reappeared and handed her an apron and a hairnet. “He says it’s okay as long as you don’t do anything strenuous. Everyone calls me Cookie.”
“Thank you, Cookie.” She put on the apron and the hairnet, careful not to disturb the bandage on her temple, then followed him into the kitchen, where she saw a few other staff at work—and a half-dozen frozen turkeys sitting in water in large steel sinks. “Wow! Was there a sale on turkeys somewhere?”
“Thanksgiving is only three days away.”
Thanksgiving.
In the chaos of the past few days, Jenna had utterly forgotten about the holiday. Industrial-sized cans of cranberry sauce sat on the counter beside bags of potatoes and sweet potatoes and cans of pumpkin pie filling. “What can I do to help?”
She soon found herself wearing rubber gloves and up to her elbows in hot, sudsy water, scrubbing out the big pans used to roast the beef that one of Cookie’s helpers was slicing for sandwiches. The monotonous work and the conversations around her were soothing and gave her something to do besides worry.
“You think she’s gonna say yes?” said a man with a strong Brooklyn accent.
“I sorta gave her a hint when I started saving up for the ring. She seemed to like the idea then.”
“That’s not how you do it, man. You gotta surprise her, go down on one knee.”
“I’d rather know before I ask whether she’s interested. Besides, women find it romantic even if they’re not surprised. Isn’t that right, Ms. Hamilton?”
Startled to be brought into the conversation, Jenna looked up. “I don’t know. No guy has ever asked me to marry him.”
“Thatright thereis proof that’s something’s wrong with this world,” said the one with the Brooklyn accent.
Jenna smiled at the compliment, the two men drifting back to their conversation and leaving her with her thoughts.
What would she have done if Trenton had asked her to marry him?
If she’d had any sense, she would have said no. He was too in love with his job and his status to have room in his life for a wife and kids. And, yet, here she was, half in love with a man who, like Trenton, had chosen his career over everything else. But unlike Trenton, Derek’s career took him far from the U.S.—and it might one day get him killed.
Not that Derek was in love with her or would ask her to marry him. He’d made it clear that he had no interest in a wife or family. Whatever they had together now was all she was going to get. She needed to accept that, or she’d end up getting hurt.
What if it’s too late?
Then that was her fault.
She finished scrubbing, helped unload the industrial dishwasher and stack clean plates, before joining the kitchen staff for a quick lunch. They were full of questions about her work in Afghanistan, conversation helping to pass the time.
They cleared off their plates, and Jenna helped wipe down the tables. Soon, other staff filed in, but few sat. Most grabbed a tray, tossed on a sandwich, some fruit, and coffee, and disappeared back upstairs.