In the Weeds

Chapter 1-5

Watching his back, she could appreciate other changes in him. He was no longer the whip thin Colby she’d grown up next door to. Somewhere along the way he’d earned himself seriously broad swimmer’s shoulders. The rest of his body showed that he made his living on his feet: powerful legs, trim waist, tight—

She was not looking at Colby Thompson’s glutes.

But she could still feel the strength of his arms as he wrapped them around her to protect her from the fall.

She was a Marine Corps major. She didn’t need anyone to protect her. Her aircraft had often been the tip of the spear—first on the ground delivering forward teams beneath the watchful eye of the leading gunships. The only protection she needed was provided by the Corps.

Colby and Dilya appeared ready to chat all through the sunny morning. Zackie and Rex had sat close beside their handlers and were holding a tongue-lolling contest.

Ivy punched Colby on the shoulder, the unstained one to avoid staining her knuckles. Not hard enough to knock him off balance, but hard enough that she double-checked to see if she’d just punched a brick wall. Again, solid muscle and Colby Thompson, hard to equate the two.

“Right. Sorry. Later Dilya.” He reached out and messed up the girl’s hair again.

He tried that on her and she would kill him. Why did guys always think that was so cute? She shared a glance of commiseration with Dilya as the teen struggled to get her hair to lie properly again.

Ivy punched Colby’s shoulder again—hard—on Dilya’s behalf.

“Hey, what was that for? We’re going already.” He began leading her once more toward the West Wing.

Ivy glanced back to see Dilya shove enough hair aside to uncover a wide grin. Ivy found it very easy to smile back before she followed Colby.

Today was supposed to be about stepping into her new job and confirming relationship roles. She checked her Star Trek wrist watch—its silver face etched with the lines of the top of the NCC-1701 Enterprise’s saucer section was sufficiently elegant and understated to be permissible with her uniform—stated that she still had fifteen minutes before her meeting with Major General Markham, the director of the White House Military Office.

Yet against all common sense, she had the sudden notion that perhaps she’d just had the most important introduction she’d have today. The President’s dog walker had known who she was, had the run of the grounds even during an HMX-1 landing, and her innocent teenager act didn’t fool Ivy for a second—though Colby appeared to have swallowed it whole.

Or…Ivy was imagining everything and there was a force field around Colby Thompson that projected mental aberrations on unsuspecting Marine Corps majors. That hypothesis at least had a higher degree of plausibility.

As they crossed through the Rose Garden, she glanced back once more.

Dilya had produced a tennis ball from somewhere and was heaving it far out onto the South Lawn. The Sheltie went bounding after it. It could have been any girl playing with her dog. But it wasn’t. This was the White House and everything here had more meaning than it would anywhere else. Just as Ivy was turning away, Dilya’s bright eyes swung to inspect her again. Focused. Thoughtful.

Yes, the girl was not what she seemed.

The Rose Garden itself was something of a disappointment. In none of her prior visits had she actually been out to see the gardens. The Jackie Kennedy Garden on the far side of the South Portico was a riot of brilliant blooms. The Rose Garden itself was a broad, rectangular expanse of perfectly trimmed lawn. Only the border had trees and flowers. The bright pink of the magnolia tree blossoms were brilliant, but the narrow border of roses and immaculate box hedges didn’t impress her much. It was so formal. A rose garden should be a lush affair that abounded with masses of blooms, not some carefully constrained study in rectangles.

Hopefully she wouldn’t be disillusioned by trading her chance at being an HMX pilot for the WHMO position.

Colby led her up the broad steps at the far end of the Rose Garden. Atop the steps they crossed the West Colonnade and Colby held the door open for her into the West Wing.

Did that have more meaning too? Colby Thompson had never held a door for her once in all the years growing up together. She’d have remembered if he had, just because it would have been so unusual. He’d been far more likely to “accidentally” let one close in her face. And she’d been just as likely to “accidentally” kick him in the shins shortly afterward.

He had also managed to keep her from disgracing herself and her uniform on her first day. What meaning did that have?

Facts are all that count. Marine officers love conjecture, but never lose sight of the facts! McKinnon had been mostly right about that one. She’d learned that there were times to ponder an enemy’s intentions, but never to lose sight of the facts.

Fact: She knew Colby Thompson’s failures as a human being far too well.

Fact: None of those appeared evident in the man holding the door for her.

Hypothesis: Maybe he was a pod-person, a secret alien substitute in Colby clothing.

Conclusion? She was flying deep in a total brownout.