7
Scotch Thoughts
Affair at Bromfield Hall
After pouring himself his scotch he crossed the hotel room and pulled his suitcase and garment bag from the closet. He was packing again. It seemed as if he spent a good majority of his life packing, whether it was packing sundry different outfits for various covers during an overseas assignment like this last one or boxing up the contents of his apartment or room to move to yet another location. This assignment was a perfect example, he thought, as he placed his business suit into the garment bag. Choosing to use the businessman cover had been a pretty straightforward approach in order to plug the intelligence leak before the North Sea Defense Strategy meeting. He had thought it would be even more convincing to include Amanda as his personal secretary, and she had seemed very enthusiastic as always until he had described her role as "window dressing" and dismissed her for the afternoon and suggested she do some sightseeing.
But nothing was simple with Amanda. Tell her to go do some sightseeing and she gets mixed up in a sex scandal! How did she do it? How come she could take the simplest of tasks and make things difficult? Imagine, Amanda, in a sex scandal?! It was ridiculous, just as he had kept telling her all weekend. All anyone had to do was take one look at her wholesome feminine appearance and they would know that the woman would never mix herself up in such a thing. He had even told her that, and she had gotten offended. Why would she argue with him as he explained why it was obvious to him and anyone who knew her that she wouldn't do anything scandalous like that? Imagine, Amanda involved in a steamy, clandestine love affair? He didn't want to; he didn't even feel comfortable putting the words "Amanda" and "sex" in the same sentence. Taking a long sip of his scotch he realized that he really didn't want to ask himself why he couldn't.
He hadn't been exaggerating when he had told Amanda that this was the most sensitive case of his career. For some reason as he had told her that, he'd had the sneaking suspicion that it had just become even more sensitive. Not only did he now have international security and the reputation of Britain's and America's intelligence communities to protect, he had Amanda's reputation to uphold and defend as well. He should have known that he wouldn't have been able to simply stash her at Bromfield Hall and return to his investigation in London. It actually had been a lucky break that Amanda had been implicated in the scandal. Going to Bromfield Hall had been the key after all.
Snapping out of his musings, Lee reached into the closet and pulled out his tux. Placing it into the garment bag, his mind returned to the reception at Lord Bromfield's later that evening. Boy, had Amanda fussed over him that night; she had been so worried about the injuries he had sustained when she had pushed him away from that falling urn. It always made him uncomfortable when she treated him like that. He was getting used to Amanda, the suburban housewife as a helper, but Amanda, the mother, tending to his scrapes and bruises was a whole other thing, and it was not something he was used to or would ever grow accustomed to. He was sure of that. But Amanda in that black dress with the spaghetti straps and the rhinestones, now that was something he could…. No! That was something he would not think about! He reprimanded himself as he zipped up the garment bag.
Next, he opened the suitcase and began to pack away his more regular every day clothes. Picking up the plaid jacket, he folded it slowly and his mind drifted back to the conversation on Lambeth Pier. What had happened there? He still could not make sense of that conversation. He was a trained intelligence operative; it was his job to pick up the slightest nuance in a person's communication in order to deduce their hidden motives, but he had been completely caught off guard by Amanda during that conversation. At first he was afraid that she was trying to tell him that she had "loving" feelings for him, but of course she wasn't, that would have been ridiculous. But something had flowed between them; he was astute enough to recognize that. What had she been saying? He hadn't had the time to really think about it until this moment, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to and yet he wasn't sure if he could stop himself. He took another swallow from the glass and placed it on the nearby dresser and let his memory replay the details.
She had said that people who care about each other touch each other, that they hold hands and they put their arms around each other. And she had taken both of his hands in hers and had begun to caress his arm. The current that he felt was like getting zapped by electricity, but there had to be a simple and logical explanation for it. It was probably due to the fact that he had told her that he was going to have to return to Bromfield Hall to lure the killer into the open. Of course, Amanda cared about what happened to him, she was always so concerned for his safety on any mission they worked together, and this one was no different. Any other explanation would be utterly ridiculous. Shaking his head and laughing to himself, he turned to pick up the next garment to place in the suitcase.
But as he held the shirt above the suitcase, his movements halted. It was as if he was viewing a slide show of the past months. Moments flashed before his eyes - walking Amanda out of the bullpen with his hand on her back, grabbing Amanda's hand as she came out of a hotel in Germany, guiding Amanda through the streets of Salzburg with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, holding Amanda in a close embrace after revealing to her that he was indeed alive. Her words came back to him again: people who care about each other touch each other.
She was right. He did care about her. And he must care a lot, he noticed. Yes, he did notice things like that, but he didn't want to notice, and he didn't want to care about Amanda the way it looked like he did. He didn't want the responsibility, the worry or the fear. He didn't want to feel the hurt or the pain when the person he cared for left or was taken away. Damn it! He wanted to throw something or have a temper tantrum. He felt like someone was trying to get him to do something he didn't want to do. He vehemently shut the suitcase as if he could shut the lid on the emotions that he was feeling at the moment.
Downing the remainder of the scotch, he resolutely placed his bags by the door. He needed a break. It would be a nice change of pace to be back in DC. He could enjoy the success of this last mission. Amanda would be nice and comfortable at home with her family; she had said something about painting some rooms at her house, which should keep her busy for a while. And he would go home and call Margot, she was always fun to be around.