Author's Note: Gibbs noticed Suzanne was not typically the chipper and unsinkable "Suzanne" he knows and is determined to know what is going on. The following chapter convinces her to spend an afternoon with him. Note: reference to the Band's song, Evangeline by the Band featuring Emmylou Harris.
'How can she afford a house and she works at NCIS and goes to Georgetown? G-Town's not cheap!'
Gibbs noticed the hardwood flooring-dark, like cocoa bean, beginning in the foyer and ending at the kitchen.
'Did she do the flooring?! Get out of here!'
Suzanne returned downstairs, looking and feeling invigorated. Wearing faded boot-cut denims, an oversized Georgetown t-shirt and white hooded jacket with matching blue and white sneakers, she and Special Agent Gibbs left the premises moments later in his reliable pickup truck. Her eyes closed as the sunlight glowed on her skin, even inside the cab. Gibbs started the truck, immediately turned down the music. During the ride, all Jethro Gibbs' concerns were addressed methodically, logically.
"You certainly shower quickly." He began.
"I have an unbelievably low water bill." Mindful of waste, particularly now as a homeowner, Suzanne shared how she learned to appreciate the small details, including hot water, during her travels. Gibbs chuckled softly. "It is a little higher in the summer, because I love to garden."
"Why Deanwood?" Gibbs turned onto the main road.
"The house was a fixer-upper, not in too bad of shape." Suzanne answered. "I researched, figured wasn't any worse than I fell in love the yard and saw the possibilities." She paused, wondering if she said too much, but continued.
"I see you've put some work into it…you have nice wood floors…"
The past year was spent in renovations—replacing the downstairs carpeting with wood floors, new countertops and repainting the walls. A lot of the renovations Suzanne completed herself.
"I finished the interior about four, five months ago. Daddy came from Williamsburg to help me with the countertops—last thing before he…you know?" Gibbs remembered she was reeling from the loss of her father as well. Still, she threw herself into work, now allowing time to grieve. Suzanne spent a week in Williamsburg, returned the next week back to classes, back to work.
"I mean…why rent when you can buy a house?" He nodded in agreement. "I paid $1500 in rent, extra in renters insurance because I lived in Southeast…for something I didn't own."
"How did you swing it?"
She shared with Gibbs her secret of 'thrift.' Investments in CD's, even a modest $1500 faith loan into a friend's business. Big risk, but it took off. She voluntarily shared that was the down payment for her home.
"The jobs I had in college…I saved my money. When I came back from Guatemala, I received two stipends. I saved those too. That was essentially part of my down payment for the house. All said and done—closed at $100,000 for three beds, two baths for a real front and backyard. I did it all by myself; shocked my family."
"That price is ridiculous!" Gibbs said. "You'll make a really nice profit if you decide to sell the place."
Suzanne was academically gifted from a young age. As such, she received scholarships that completely financed her college education.
"So…Georgetown? Is it scholarship based too?"
"90 percent of it." Suzanne replied. "You've probably wondered how I can afford a house, why I work in the kitchen instead of a cubicle...the job pays the tuition."
Ah, a piece of the puzzle. 'Work for a year, government incentive: tuition assistance. She was accepted into Georgetown a year into service for the government. Not bad, Suz.' Gibbs thought.
The two reached their destination: the year round outdoor flea market. It was busy for a Saturday, lots of foot traffic.
"Ever been to a flea market, Suz?" Gibbs quickly left the truck, opened Suzanne's door, smiled. The two walked on the rock-covered trail leading to the front entrance.
"Plenty of 'em back home in Hampton Roads." Suzanne answered. "The best one I went to was in Fayetteville."
"Bragg?" Gibbs chuckled. "Your dad?"
"My brother." Suzanne said. "We met half-way, which happened to be Fayetteville." Gibbs knew of a brother, mentioned the name: Simon.
"Simon's the one who lives in the Silicon Valley—computer engineer." Suzanne clarified. "There are three of us: Solomon or 'JR', Simon and of course, me." Solomon was almost 12 years older, graduated from Rice with an Engineering background, minored in linguistics.
"Announced two weeks after graduation he signed the papers and was headed to Fort Knox for Basic! Dad was pissed!" Suzanne said. "I was 6, 7 years old…I just remembered Dad going off! Dad wanted all of us to get a college degree at the college of our choice and not because of the military. He was adamant about it."
"MOS?"
"Military intelligence. He's into cartography more than lingustics."
"I'm looking for a table to restore for baby Victoria." The two finally entered the premises.
"Anything in particular?"
"Something that she can grow in..." He carefully inspected some of the items. "Age appropriate—about 2 to 10, 11?"
Suzanne nodded. "As she grows, something of a center piece, hold tea parties, store books, small items? Night light?"
"I'm enjoying your company." Gibbs smiled, looked at Suzanne. "You're telling me about your brothers—JR and Simon?" He encouraged to share more. "We don't get a lot of time to just…talk."
Music played in the background. It was a song Gibbs hummed along, said part of the lyrics.
Bayou Sam, from South Louisian'
Had gambling in his veins
Evangeline, from the Maritimes
Was slowly goin' insane.
It surprised Gibbs when Suzanne sang along to the song softly as she joined Gibbs looking at a table, possibly one suitable for the project he had in mind.
High on the top of Hickory Hill
She stands in the lightnin' and thunder
Down on the river the boat was a-sinkin'
She watched that queen go under
Evangeline, Evangeline
Curses the soul of the Mississippi Queen
That pulled her man away.
"This is a beautiful table, made with mahogany materials." Suzanne commented, carefully inspecting the craftsmanship, the wood and its durability. She glanced at the price tag—significantly higher than the value of the wood itself.
"It's perfect for Victoria." Gibbs said. "A few touches…"
"Take a look at the chairs in the corner too…" Suzanne suggested. "I'll ask how much for the set."
In Spanish, Suzanne questioned as to why the material was hybrid.
"Este es un híbrido. A quién estás tomando el pelo? 250 dólares?" "Senorita…" "Él es un agente federal…" Suzanne whispered. Gibbs, oblivious to the conversation, her rapid Spanish conversation like a native, continued looking around. "Madera ilegal ... la selva . Vergonzoso."
"setenta y cinco ..."
"y las sillas?"
"Ciento?" "One hundred." Gibbs joined Suzanne at the register with the two gentlemen. "They were just saying they've had it for a while and wanted just $125 for the table and the four chairs."
All were satisfied with the deal. The salesmen were thankful Suzanne did not alert Gibbs about the international implications of rainforest materials on American soil. Gibbs had the table and chairs for Victoria's projects.
"You knew it was a hybrid table, right?" Gibbs smiled. "That's what you said to those men in Spanish."
Suzanne nodded.
"This is a combination of both Latin American and North American Mahogany." She turned the table on its side, showing Gibbs the slight difference in color variation. "Slash and burn deforestation in Latin American rainforests. It abuses the wood; see? American Mahogany is richer in color."
She continued sharing with Gibbs the family dynamic. The McNamara family: all with SDM initials. Her parents were Solomon Daniel and Susan Eleanor Davidson. They were Appalachian folks, mainly the McNamara side of the family in Kentucky. Dad graduated from Fisk in Nashville—all ROTC; Mom attended the University on a full academic scholarship—'pretty much stubbornly, cunningly integrated Kentucky's School of Education.' Suzanne grinned.
"I see where you get your balance, not to mention your temper...I've met people from Appalachia; good people—direct, to the point."
"Wise wig—What you see is what you get." Suzanne chuckled.
"December 19, 1968. They met after a church fellowship, exchanged numbers and addresses…wrote and corresponded at school."
"They got married in 197-?"
"December 12, 1970 at the Justice of the Peace. Dad graduated in June; he proposed, because he got drafted."
"About your family…?"
"Oh…" Suzanne continued. "Mom finished Kentucky, graduated by the time he came back stateside, taught at the local high school. His orders were for Fort Hood. JR—Solomon David, born December29, 1972. Dad was there three, four years…got assigned at DLI in Monterey."
"Language institute?"
"Daddy was an intelligence analyst." Suzanne said. "High aptitude, good ear for dialects and languages. They wanted him to learn Chinese, Korean, which he did. He became an analyst for Asian diplomacy."
"Simon?"
Suzanne nodded. "1977—September. Simon Davidson. Typical Californian. He spent the majority of his life in Monterey, except the two years in Fort Knox and our 22 months in Shafer."
Gibbs walked into the next store, gently wrapping his arm around Suzanne.
"So I guess you were a surprise…6 year gap between you and Simon?"
"I was born a week after my parents' anniversary—December 19th." Suzanne smiled. "Daddy said he always wanted a daughter."
"So you are Suzanne…?"
"Suzanne. Simon named me Suzanne, after a classmate. Denise is my Nan's—grandmother-name."
"You're a beautiful girl, Suzanne." With the right dash of sunlight, her medium brown hair was a reddish tint. She blushed slightly, smiled and climbed into the truck.
"It's a shame the day's coming to an end." Suzanne commented during their ride back.
"Doesn't have to." Gibbs suggested to have dinner—his treat. "I grill a good ribeye steak."
"I'm okay." Suzanne said.
"I insist." Gibbs said. In his mind, he was going to learn as to why she had so many weapons, given at her state. It worried him. "Besides, I want your opinion on helping me with the design for this table."
