Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

“Great.”

She glanced at her watch. It was time to pick up the kids. She’d stop at the store on the way home, all the while dreaming of the perfect vacation—the peace, the freedom, no stress.

By six o’clock that evening all hell had broken loose. Ella had dissolved into temper-tantrum mode because she couldn’t bring her bike on the trip, and Colton was busy in his room sulking because he had to finish all his homework before they left.

“I don’t get why I can’t do it there,” he yelled down the stairs.

Because we both know you’ll get distracted as soon as you step out of the car. “Colton, just get it done, please.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She released a sigh of frustration. This wasn’t how she wanted to start their weekend getaway.

“Looks like today’s going to be a slow one,” Marcus said.

Leo hovered over his shoulder. “Slow is always good in our line of work.”

“Yeah, it is.” Marcus sighed.

It was days like this that made him yearn for the adrenaline rush of the old days. When he was a paramedic, he never knew what to expect. Every call was different. Different people, places, conditions, traumas. As soon as the alert would sound, his entire body would speed into overdrive.

Leo handed him a mug of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Marcus.”

“Why not?”

“It’s decaf.”

“You trying to kill me?”

“I was thinking that you drink too much coffee. Maybe that’s why you aren’t sleeping.”

I’m not sleeping because when I try, I see Jane and Ryan.

“I get enough.”

Leo snorted. “You don’t get enough. Of anything .”

“Please don’t start.”

Leo shrugged. “I’m worried about you, man.” He paused and shuffled his feet. “Val wants you to come to dinner on Sunday.”

“She does, does she? Who else is coming?”

Leo’s face reddened. “Who said anyone else was coming? Why can’t it simply be the three of us enjoying a good meal together? We’re all friends.”

Marcus cocked his head to one side. “Uh-huh…”

“Jesus, Marcus, you’re always so… untrusting.”

Marcus said nothing, his gaze locked on Leo’s.

Leo let out a huff. “Okay, fine. Val invited one of her girlfriends from work. Marcy. She’s smart and very attractive.”

“Leo, my good friend, you’ve gotta stop trying to hook me up.”

“It wasn’t me. It was—”

“Val?” Marcus finished. “So it’s all Val’s fault, huh?” He picked up the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling your wife. It’s time I set her straight on my love life.”

“What love life?”

Marcus scowled. “The one I’m supposed to be in control of.”

Leo leaned forward and disconnected the call. “Okay, it was my idea. Not Val’s.” He sighed as if the whole world were on his rugged shoulders.

“I knew that.” Marcus grinned.

“Shipley’s heading your way,” Carol called out as she passed them.

“Lucky me,” Marcus muttered.

Leo ducked down behind the partition.

“Coward.”

“I doubt he’s coming to talk to me,” came Leo’s muffled reply.

Seconds later, Pete Shipley appeared. “You messed up on yesterday’s reports, Taylor.”

“Great. What did I forget this time? To dot the i’s?”

Shipley slapped the papers on Marcus’s desk. “The dates are wrong.”

Marcus glanced at the top report, taking in the dateline. It should have read June 13th . Instead it read 12th . What the hell?

He picked up the paper and held it closer. The 1 was darker than the 2 and it slanted to the right. He tended to write his numbers vertically. Someone had deliberately sabotaged the form. And there was only one person motivated to do something that vindictive.

He gave Shipley a bland look. “Wite-Out will take care of this.”

Shipley shook his head. “I’d like you to retype the forms.”

The man was looking for a fight. He’d do anything to goad Marcus into making a move that would land him in jail.

Marcus smiled. “Sure. No problem.”

Shipley’s face flickered, shifting from arrogance to confusion, then back to arrogance. “This is going in your file. Too many mistakes like this and we may think you’re not doing your job effectively enough to satisfy your rehab agreement.”

We? Had Shipley just cloned himself?

“Who else have you mentioned my mistake to, Pete?”

“The powers that be have asked me to report in to them. They take your rehabilitation very seriously.”

“As do I.”

They locked eyes again. Shipley was the first to back down.

“Get to work, Taylor.” Shipley looked at the partition. “And Leo, enough socializing with our addict here. Do what we pay you to. Work.” He marched off in the direction of his office, puffing and primping along the way.

Leo’s head appeared above the partition. “What a pompous peacock.”

Marcus chuckled. “You have a way with words, Leo.”

“Maybe that should be his nickname. Pompous Peacock.”

“Nah. Titanic suits him better. He’s heading for disaster and doesn’t even know it.”

“Yeah, and one day he’s gonna go down with his ship.”

The afternoon passed uneventfully after that. Marcus retyped the reports. When he handed them in to Shipley, he said, “I’ve decided to make copies of my reports. In case we have another issue with the dates.”

Shipley squirmed in his chair, his face slightly pink.

Marcus’s message was clear. He wouldn’t put up with sabotage.

The guilt-ridden part of him knew he deserved Shipley’s disdain. But hell, he was clean now. He worked hard, ate well and did everything to prevent that other Marcus from showing up.

Except you still have that box.

Why the hell was he still holding on to it?

Because it’s a reminder of everything you’ve lost.

Jane had given him the wooden box with the medical insignia on it when he’d been hired by EMS. She hadn’t thought about what he’d store inside it. He supposed she figured he’d use it for his cufflinks, watch and his father’s ring. It had started off that way. He’d even kept his passport inside.

Until he started using drugs and needed a place to hide them.

The box had been a safe place. After all, why would Jane need to look at his few pieces of jewelry?

Stupid.

He recalled the night he’d come home after work and found Jane sitting at the dining room table, the open box in front of her. Her eyes were swollen. She’d been crying.

“Jane, what are you doing?”

“That’s what I was going to ask.”

He approached with slow steps, his mind churning over all the lies he could tell her. His stomach churned with each step closer.

“Marcus?” She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “Why are there drugs in this box?”

He leaned over and closed the lid. He shut his eyes, ignoring the magnetic pull of his old friend. “Don’t worry about it, hon.”

“Are you doing drugs?”

His eyes flared open. “Why would you ask me that? Am I not providing for you, working hard, taking care of everything?”

“Of course you are, but—”

“But what? You’ve got nothing better to do than snoop through my things?”

“I wasn’t snooping.”

“No? Then why in hell were you looking in this?” He waved the box at her.

“I was going to surprise you on our anniversary.”

He snorted. “Surprise me?”