The stream of passengers into the coach section of the New York-bound jet had slowed to a trickle, and Jeffrey had just about concluded that no one had been assigned the seat next to his.
He didn't care, one way or the other.
Which was amazing.
Throughout his hunt for Edmund he'd had to keep in mind, whenever he was traveling, that anyone who came near him might be an assassin on Edmund's payroll. That a seatmate on a plane, for example, could be waiting for him to doze off, so he could prick him with a needle containing a slow-acting poison.
Edmund had been dead long enough now that there was surely no danger.
But apparently no seatmate, either; even the trickle of arrivals had stopped. Jeffrey stretched, as best he could in the space available, and let one of his arms hang over the empty seat.
Then a final half-dozen stragglers came aboard, and one of them headed unerringly for that seat.
A man whose attire proclaimed him to be...a Catholic priest.
Jeez. They're everywhere!
Jeffrey and the newcomer exchanged polite nods and smiles as the man dropped into the seat.
A few months back, Jeffrey reflected, I wouldn't have taken it as a given that he really was a priest.
He didn't question that now. He was only mildly interested in his seatmate - a trim, good-looking man, probably in his mid-fifties. Dark-haired, graying at the temples; fair-skinned.
Was he at that conference? Did I see him in the lobby?
It didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were - finally - about to take off.
x
x
x
After they'd been airborne for a few minutes, a flight attendant made rounds. Apparently bilingual, she sized up Jeffrey and his seatmate, then asked in English whether "either of you gentlemen" wanted to rent a headset for use with the in-flight movie. They both declined. The priest asked her a few questions about their estimated arrival time, and how it might be affected by headwinds.
Then she moved on, and the priest began reading the book he'd brought with him, an English-language paperback titled Economic Problems Confronting Latin America. Jeffrey had an espionage thriller, but he'd thought all along that he'd be too keyed-up to read. Now he found himself wondering about his seatmate, covertly studying him.
He'd assumed the man was Latino, and had some reason for going to New York. But he isn't Latino. Not only does he speak and read English, he speaks it without a trace of a foreign accent. He's as American as I am.
But it would be a hell of a coincidence for a priest to be flying out of Managua today if he hadn't been at that conference. And I was told it was a regional conference, no one there representing the U.S. or Canada.
The priest suddenly turned to him, smiled, and said, "Excuse me. Have we met?"
Caught off guard, Jeffrey said, "Uh...I don't think so."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were looking at me as if you recognized me, and I couldn't place you."
Shit. I'm really slipping, if I can't sneak looks at a guy sitting next to me without being caught at it.
He decided the best course of action now was to 'fess up. "I'm sorry, Father. The truth is, I was puzzled. I knew about a priests' conference in Managua - same hotel - and I thought it would be too much of a coincidence for a priest to be flying out today if he hadn't been attending it. But as I understood it, they didn't have any American priests, and you seem to be American."
"Oh, that!" The priest chuckled. "Yes, I am American. But I was attending the conference as a Vatican observer. I'm flying to New York because I couldn't get a direct flight from Managua to Rome.
"Come to think of it, I believe I did see you in the hotel lobby! I hope you enjoyed your stay in Nicaragua, and weren't too inconvenienced by being surrounded by priests."
"No, not at all!" And I enjoyed killing Edmund, but I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't thought I was about to bleed to death. "Your work...a Vatican observer? That sounds like a very responsible position."
The priest gave a gentle shrug. "I like to think I'm trusted, on both sides of the pond. I'll take some messages to the Holy Father, make some recommendations. But I don't have any real authority."
They exchanged a few more pleasantries. Then the priest resumed reading his book, and Jeffrey made a dogged attempt to concentrate on his.
x
x
x
He couldn't.
Couldn't dwell on his hoped-for blissful reunion with Reva, either. He kept worrying about Jonathan and the children. If anything had happened to them, the reunion wouldn't be "blissful."
He'd wracked his brain to come up with explanations for his loss of contact with Jonathan that didn't involve the young man being dead or maimed. He'd thought of two. Now he tried to make himself believe in them; that was harder.
One possibility: Jonathan was in jail. Maybe Edmund had framed him for some crime or other. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Edmund - maybe Phillip Spaulding had morphed into a new Alan, and railroaded Jonathan so Lizzie would have full custody of Sarah.
Either way, Jonathan would probably be physically safe until Jeffrey could get him released. And Sarah would almost certainly be safe. She'd be with Lizzie, or maybe even with Reva.
The other possibility: Edmund had succeeded in turning Jonathan against Jeffrey. Maybe by having someone send him doctored photos - photos that seemed to show Jeffrey sunning himself on a beach somewhere, cheating on Reva with other women. Could Jonathan possibly fall for that?
If he had come to believe that sort of crap, would he have told Reva?
No, Jeffrey assured himself, he wouldn't hurt her. If he believed the worst about me, he'd let his mother go on thinking me dead.
They could recover from any misunderstandings, if everyone was alive and well.
What am I going to do when I get to Springfield? Where should I go?
I think I should start by trying my damnedest to find Jonathan. Go to his house. If a stranger answers the door, be casual about it, but ask if they know what's happened to him. If the house seems to be unoccupied, ask a neighbor.
Jonathan had given him the address. It was in a part of town where Jeffrey didn't have any acquaintances.
Having supposedly been dead for more than a year, he didn't want to startle anyone, or have his reappearance reported in the news before he could reveal himself, gently, to Reva.
Everyone in Springfield has heard of me - seen me on TV when I was DA. My "death" was probably headline news. But the image most people have of me will be in a suit and tie, with mustache and beard.
By the time he reached Managua, he'd been eager to get rid of every bit of his grimy, unkempt, three-month growth of beard. He'd been tempted to have his entire head shaved, but the barber had talked him out of it.
Scrawny as I am now, clean-shaven, in a t-shirt and jeans, maybe with a cheap pair of reading glasses...there's no chance Jonathan's neighbors will recognize me. Especially since Jeffrey O'Neill is the last person they'll be expecting to see.
But he hoped desperately that the doorbell he'd ring would be answered by the man who would recognize him. Even if Jonathan was a new-minted enemy who'd sucker-punch him, and stomp on him when he was down.
He wanted to believe in a less-than-worst-case scenario. But his inner voice kept saying Face it. Jonathan's probably dead.
If Jonathan was dead...
It's my fault, damn it. I got him more involved than he had to be. Reva may forgive me, but I'll never forgive myself.
And what about the children? Colin, Sarah, Henry...I don't know whether any of them are safe!
What if the children - any, or all three of them - had been kidnapped and were still missing, with no one in Springfield knowing whether they were dead or alive?
I killed Edmund! What if he had the children, and we'll never be able to learn what he did with them?
x
x
x
A voice said, "Excuse me."
"Wh-what?" Jeffrey snapped back from wherever he'd been - to find the priest gently gripping his arm.
"Maybe I should mind my own business," the priest said quietly. "But you seem very nervous and anxious."
"Oh! I'm sorry." He was embarrassed - appalled, really, that he'd let it show.
"Don't apologize! I just thought, maybe you're nervous about flying. Understandable, when we hear of so many dangers - terrorists, overworked pilots, bird strikes. But statistically, the odds are way against any given flight's having problems.
"I was thinking, if you're nervous, it might help you if we talk. Chat, about anything, to get your mind off it."
Thank, um, God, he isn't offering to hold my hand and pray with me!
"Thank you, Father." He managed a smile. "I was really worried about family problems. But about flying..."
He realized he actually did want to be distracted by conversation. So he said, "I survived a plane crash a while back. Maybe, when I've solved my other problems and have time to think about it, I will find that it's left me with some fears about flying."
He knew it hadn't. He'd piloted other small planes since the crash. He just wanted to make conversation - and on some level, enjoy the fact that he now could safely divulge some details of his personal life to a stranger.
But the priest's reaction wasn't what he expected. He stared at him, then said in an awed voice, "I guess it is a 'small world.' I once survived a plane crash, too."
"You did? You're right, that's quite a coincidence." Remembering that the other man was going all the way to Rome, he added, "Seems like it didn't leave you with any fear of flying."
"No." A small smile, almost a grimace. "Actually, the plane crash was what led me to become a priest."
Jeffrey thought he must have imagined the grimace. He said politely, "I think I can understand that. You wanted to show your gratitude for God's having spared you?"
The priest shook his head. "No. I wasn't grateful. Didn't have any desire to go on living. My pregnant fiancee died in that plane crash! Along with my father, and the pilot."
Jeffrey couldn't think of any response that wasn't inadequate. "That's...that's terrible. I'm very sorry."
Just those deaths - a private or corporate jet? Huh. If he's a rising star in the Church, it stands to reason he came from a privileged background.
Feeling he had to say more, he continued awkwardly, "You must have loved your fiancee very much."
But the other man was shaking his head again. "No. I didn't love her at all! And that's why I became a priest - at least part of the reason. I was trying to atone for my guilt, for having gotten an innocent woman killed when I didn't love her. The plane crash was an accident, but she was only there because of me." He paused, then said, "I can't believe I'm telling you this. I've never admitted it to anyone. I guess it really is easiest to talk to a total stranger, someone you'll never see again."
If the priest was surprised by the turn the conversation had taken, Jeffrey was flabbergasted.
After all that's happened in my life lately, I find myself talking to a priest. And I feel like I have to help him deal with his guilt feelings!
Unbelievable.
Aloud, he said, "I think you're being too hard on yourself, Father -"
The priest gave a shaky laugh, then said, "Hey. The way this talk is going, your calling me 'Father' is a little ridiculous, don't you think?"
"Uh -" In truth, Jeffrey always felt foolish calling another man that. At least this one isn't young enough to be my son. "If you'd be okay with 'Reverend' -"
"No, no. Right now, we're just two guys on a plane. Call me Glee."
"Glee?" Jeffrey didn't think he'd heard correctly. If it really is "Glee," it's a damned ironic nickname for someone who's had that kind of tragedy in his life.
"Short for Gleason," the priest explained. "And yes, that is my first name. My mother's family name."
Jeffrey extended his hand, saying, "Fine. I'm Jeff." No one ever called him that. But under the circumstances, with the priest having volunteered a one-syllable nickname, he knew he'd seem standoffish if he didn't do the same. And we'll be going our separate ways in New York, so he won't see "Jeff" claiming Michael Flynn's luggage.
After they'd exchanged an awkward handshake, Jeffrey said, "Look, I may be out of line here - it's not like I'm trying to 'counsel' you! But it really sounds to me as if you've been too hard on yourself.
"Maybe you weren't in love with that young woman. But I'm guessing you became engaged because you'd accidentally gotten her pregnant, right? So you were being conscientious, trying hard to do the right thing."
Oops. Wrong again.
Glee sighed, then said softly, "No, it wasn't like that at all.
"I suppose telling a stranger is really just like telling myself. Spelling it out for myself all over again, acknowledging what happened and recognizing my mistakes...
"There was another woman before Janet, a woman I truly did love. The only one I've ever loved. She broke up with me. It was entirely my fault - I'd been too controlling, and I'd kept secrets from her, things my bride-to-be had a right to know.
"I saw the error of my ways. I was willing to change.
"Given time, I could have won her back. But I didn't get the chance. There was another guy, who'd been in and out of her life, off and on, for years. Whenever she'd had a bad experience with someone else, he was prepared to swoop in. And the minute I was out of the picture, he did it again -
"Hey, is something wrong? What did I say?"
The only thing worse than the jolt Jeffrey had just received was the fact that he hadn't been able to mask his reaction. "It...it sort of reminded me of a problem I may have. One I hadn't let myself face."
"There was another guy, who'd been in and out of her life, off and on, for years. Whenever she'd had a bad experience with someone else, he was prepared to swoop in."
Blake had once warned Jeffrey about Josh, using almost those exact words.
He knew from Jonathan that as of six months ago, Josh had been away from Springfield for a long time, supervising a construction project in Tulsa. Reva hadn't been dating anyone, even platonically; and she still wore her wedding ring. Even wore Jeffrey's wedding ring, on her left thumb!
He'd been careful never to ask Jonathan about any of those things. Jonathan had updated him every week or so, without being asked.
But six months was a long time, with Reva believing herself a widow.
"Whenever she'd had a bad experience with someone else, he was prepared to swoop in."
Jeffrey realized now that he'd been in denial - never letting himself think, consciously, of the possibility that he might return home to find he'd lost Reva to Josh. The denial had been a survival mechanism.
God help me, that's why I didn't call Reva on the landline! I was afraid Josh would answer. Or worse - maybe I'd get a cheery answering machine message saying, "Hi! You've reached Cross Creek, home of Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Lewis!"
Would it have been worse to hear that message in Josh's voice, or Reva's?
He pulled himself together. His shirt was suddenly damp with sweat, but he managed to tell the anxious Glee, "I'm all right. Glad you did remind me of...that thing.
"Please go on. You lost the woman you loved to the other guy?"
"Yes. And I've always been a proud man. So I didn't want her to see how badly I was hurt. I proposed to Janet - and got her pregnant, deliberately - just to show the woman I loved that I was going on with my life, happily, without her.
"I wound up going on with it, unhappily, without my father, Janet, or the baby I'd made."
"I'm truly sorry." Jeffrey had finally thought of something else to say. "I can understand your feeling guilty. But I'm sure you've done enough good in your life, as a priest, to more than make up for it."
"Maybe." Glee tried to smile, but it was one of the least convincing smiles Jeffrey had ever seen. "Thank you for listening, and caring. Would it help you to open up to me about your problems?"
Jeffrey didn't think it would "help." But he hadn't had anyone he could really talk to since he'd lost contact with Jonathan. The connection he and Glee had made seemed to have just the right combination of camaraderie and anonymity (they'd exchanged only first names). So he said, "Yes, thank you, it might."
Weighing his words carefully, he said, "First, I want to assure you that I'm not a criminal. I'm actually a lawyer - back home, I've even been the DA.
"But I've been involved in some strange situations lately. Dangerous situations.
"I don't want to be any more specific than that. But one of the things that's troubling me is that something terrible may have happened to my stepson. I won't know for sure till I get home...but my stepson may even be dead. And if he is, it's because he became more involved with the action than he had to be, to help me."
Glee mulled that over for a few seconds. Then he asked, "Is your stepson a juvenile?"
Jeffrey felt his eyebrows shoot up. "No, of course not! He's a grown man - old enough that he's a widower, with a child of his own."
"Did he understand the danger he was getting into?"
Now Jeffrey saw where Glee was going. "Yes, he understood. All too well."
"Then...I know you'll blame yourself if something bad has happened. But your stepson was a mature man who chose to help you with whatever it was, knowing the risk. It's not all your fault."
Jeffrey nodded slowly. Glee hadn't said anything he didn't already know; and it didn't make him feel any better. He couldn't convey all the nuances of the situation - all the reasons he blamed himself - without telling his new friend the whole story. And he wasn't willing to do that.
He decided he wouldn't mention the threat to the children. It wouldn't make sense without more background than he was prepared to provide.
But there was something else he would mention. "I have to tell you why I...had a reaction...when you said you'd lost the woman you loved to another man. A man who'd been in and out of her life for years, 'swooping in' whenever she became available.
"I've been away from home for a long time, and I realize now that I may have lost my wife to a man just like that! There is a man like that in our lives. I'd been in denial, not letting myself think about him. The state I'd been in the past few months, physically and mentally, I might not have survived if I'd had to live with that thought before now.
"But I'm not saying my wife would have been unfaithful, knowingly betrayed me. We were very much in love. It's a different situation, because...well, I told you I've been involved with something pretty strange. For more than a year, I've had to let my wife believe I was dead!"
Glee's jaw dropped. "What?"
"I know, it sounds crazy! Not like anything that happens to people in real life. I still don't want to go into the details. But I didn't fake my death deliberately. Remember the plane crash I said I was in? I was forced - never mind by whom - to let my wife, and everyone else back home, think I'd died. That stepson I mentioned is the only one who knew the truth.
"I can surface now, and I'm headed home. But God knows what I'll find. Even if everyone's all right, I may have lost my wife and, for all practical purposes, our son."
Glee still looked stunned. After a few seconds' silence, he said, "You may have a hard time believing this. The parallels in our lives are eerie. I've let my next of kin believe I'm dead!"
"You...what?" Jeffrey was beginning to wonder whether this conversation was real, or a bizarre dream.
Glee hastened to say, "There are differences, of course. My next of kin is just a half-brother."
Jeffrey was too shocked to ask questions, but Glee went on with his story. "I was in a coma for a while, in a European hospital, after my plane crash. When I came out of it, I decided to let my brother go on believing I was in an irreversible coma. I was well enough fixed financially that I could fake it. We'd never been close...the few times he came to see me, he was shown another man who was in a vegetative state." He grimaced. "Believe me, people in that condition look terrible, nothing like the way they looked in their active lives. No one wants to look at them too long...
"After a while, my brother was told I'd died. Informed that I'd made all the necessary arrangements long before, and had been quietly buried, in Rome."
Jeffrey found his voice, and asked, "Why?"
"Like I said, we'd never been close. And my brother didn't need any help from me financially. His family was well off.
"But the main reason I didn't want a continuing relationship - he was still regularly seeing the woman I'd been in love with. I didn't want her to know I was still alive, after the mess I'd made with Janet."
Jeffrey had a sudden suspicion. "Was your brother the man who'd taken her away from you?"
But Glee shook his head. "No, it wasn't that bad! But they lived in the same town."
Then he rubbed a hand over his eyes, hesitated...and finally spoke again. "There is more, though. I had a son. But he's dead now. Killed himself.
"I thought he'd be better off with his mother and stepfather, without me complicating his life. The way it turned out, I guess I was wrong."
At that point they hailed the flight attendant, and both of them ordered drinks.
x
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x
As they neared their destination, Jeffrey said somberly, "I've decided I'll put my wife's feelings first, no matter what. If she's found happiness with someone else, I won't stand in their way.
"But I will insist on being a part of my son's life! Even if I've lost Reva."
His saying her name wasn't a slip. He knew he could safely say it now. And even in this context, thinking of losing her, he'd felt a sudden need to hear that beloved name spoken aloud.
But he felt Glee, sitting beside him, stiffen.
Jeffrey looked at him, and saw a strange expression on the priest's face. "What?"
Glee relaxed. "I knew there was something about that name. Your wife's name - Reva? I thought I'd heard it recently.
"But I'm remembering now that I saw it in an article I read about Hindu deities. It's the name of a goddess! Is your wife Indian?"
Despite his anxieties, Jeffrey grinned. "Indian? No, far from it. Wait a minute, I'll show you." He fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out the waterproof packet containing his important papers. Handling it with care - so Glee wouldn't see the half-dozen false passports - he produced a photo of Reva and baby Colin. "My family!" he said proudly.
"Wonderful! Your wife is lovely. And decidedly not Indian.
"Ah...from what you said about having an adult stepson, I expected your own son to be older. Is this photo recent?"
"Taken a little over a year ago." He felt himself tearing up, as he always did when he looked at it.
"Hard to believe that beautiful woman has a grown son..." Glee had a sudden need to clear his throat. Then he said softly, "I hope...and I'll pray...that all goes well for you."
"Thank you...Father." Jeffrey kissed both faces in the photo before he reluctantly put it away.
Just as the pilot announced they were approaching New York.
x
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x
Rev. Gleason Malone - aka Kyle Gleason, aka Kyle Sampson - did some more drinking in an airport bar.
Everything he'd told Jeff about his past was true. But there was something he hadn't told him, something that had doubtless helped trigger that ramble about his misspent youth: he'd been thinking of leaving the priesthood.
Not for any of the usual reasons.
Gleason Malone, son of a cardinal and a whorehouse madam, had begun obsessing about becoming the first American pope.
I could have done it, too.
But then he'd realized he hadn't changed: he was just as ambitious as he'd been when he was twenty-five years younger.
No man who craves the papacy deserves it.
No man who craves the papacy should even be a priest.
He'd pretty much made up his mind to take his ambitious self elsewhere. On the plane, he'd been reading Economic Problems Confronting Latin America from the point of view not of a priest, but of an entrepreneur.
Then he'd struck up a conversation with a man whose life had eerie parallels to his - and ultimately, discovered the most amazing parallel of all.
So after Josh won Reva, he couldn't keep her! I was a fool to give up when I did.
He realized now that he should have kept track of events in Springfield. He'd deliberately not let himself learn what was going on there. All he'd known before today was that his brother Billy was alive and well, and his son Ben...wasn't.
I can keep abreast of things easily now, online.
I could go after Reva again myself...
No. Not if I learn she's still with Jeff. He struck me as a good man. And by some late-life miracle, they have a baby.
But if she's with Josh... He couldn't see the malicious smile on his face. Then it's...open season.
He finished his drink, paid his tab, and strode to the ticket counter to make an exchange.
He'd decided he wasn't going to Springfield. Not now.
But he wasn't going to Rome, either.
x
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x
Jeffrey O'Neill didn't have a seatmate on his next flight, to the airport nearest Springfield.
He was glad he didn't, because he kept that photo in his hands most of the way. Occasionally, he even talked to it.
Not, of course, out loud.
Remember, Reva, the fun we had after I looked up the origin of your name? Well, the supposed origin - I know Hawk said he and your mother had just intended it as a variant of "Reba."
But "Reva" is supposedly an alternative name for Rati, a Hindu goddess who's the wife of Kama, the "winged god of love." I insisted you'd been meant to marry a winged god of love, and you'd had to keep marrying different guys till you found the right one. Me, 'cause I'm the only one of your husbands who's a licensed pilot.
Good fun. But those are extremely minor deities. No way would a Catholic priest just happen to know that origin of the name "Reva," if he hadn't looked it up for the same reason I did.
When Glee asked if you were Indian, I knew he was trying to get me to show him a picture. But I did, so I could watch his expression. And yes, he recognized you.
I've been trying to remember who I know in Springfield who has a connection with the name Gleason. And just now, I came up with it. I'm sure I heard somewhere that Josh and Billy are only half-brothers, and Billy's mother was named Gleason.
I'm afraid I'll have way more urgent problems to deal with when I get home. But sooner or later, I'll need to have a talk with Billy about his other half-brother!
x
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x
The End
