Chapter twenty-nine

Dear Leah,

I'm sorry I haven't written before now but everything has happened so fast I've barely had time to catch my breath from it all. Thank goodness I finally have a chance to catch you up on everything that's happened.

After I left you we flew out to Washington DC. Yes, I said flew, I flew on an airplane. It was so scary at first but one of Henry's friends, almost a Grandfather, told us stories to pass the time until we landed. I didn't even think to get sick. It was all so smooth but all the time you could tell that you were moving, kind of gently bobbing about in the air. It was wonderful.

Once we landed in Washington I stayed with Henry's Godmother for two nights while we got everything settled. She is as sweet and kind as a sister, I think you would really like her. Henry's almost-Grandfather was so generous, he helped me replace my clothes and my cane and my slate and even my radio. I don't think I can thank him or the rest of his family enough for everything they've done for me.

Now I'm settled into where I'm going to live for the next four or five years, at least. It's a home for young women who are both blind and going to college. I know Mamma and Father won't approve of my going to college or living so far away, but at least you can tell them that I'm properly chaperoned. I may not be living according to Pastor Goodwin's rules, but I'm not living in sin. I have my own bedroom and I share a bath with a girl who is studying to be a social worker and work with the elderly.

Speaking of Pastor Goodwin, his tales about how everyone in the cities dresses like prostitutes are just that, tales. I found some really nice, modest jumpers to wear and no one has said a word about them, so you can rest your mind on that account as well. They may not be all ruffles and lace like Mrs. Lydia said women should wear but they are decent. I'll save the details for when I can write to you without needing assistance.

Speaking of leaning to write, I am. I can't start school until May so in the meantime I'm learning how to use a computer, that way I can write on my own. I'm also learning how to do my own laundry, how to cook, how to handle my own money, even how to get around the city and how to travel by myself. If nothing else I'll come out of this as a proper Proverbs 31 woman and not a burden…

Bellflower House
3625 Yuma St. NW
Washington DC

Spencer

"That's not all I care about, you know." Susanna said.

After the party Susanna had asked him to stay and help her write to her sister. That was how he ended up down in their study pit by the fire, curled up in a big chair, a clipboard on his knee, the cup of coffee she had so proudly made at his elbow. He could think of several dozen worse ways to spend a Sunday evening, and few better. "What's not all you care about?'

"Becoming the perfect Proverbs 31 woman," she replied. "I want to do more with my life."

"Proverbs 13:10? Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies?" She nodded. "Those verses speak to the ideal wife, don't they?"

"They do; which is not to say I don't want to get married..." She sighed. "That gets us back to that complicated story again."

"Not the best place for that discussion, unless by 'properly chaperoned' you meant never alone." He looked further into the basement where one of her roommates was using a computer and blocking them out with headphones.

She laughed lightly. "No, I just meant not having to worry about strange men coming in to your room at night. According to Pastor Goodwin that's a common happening in co-ed dorms."

"Not at my school, but then I went to one that was different. CalTech has a strict honor code that the students actually follow. Not many schools have that anymore." He'd been grateful for that at the time.

"Granted they'll think I meant never alone, and I don't plan to dissuade them. But I'm not afraid of being alone with a man; some men in this world are still honorable." She smiled a little. "Henry convinced me of that."

He made a mental note to take Henry for ice cream to thank him, and changed the subject to less precarious topics. "So what do you want to do with your life?"

"Stop Goodwin. Stop whatever he's planning. And keep on stopping it because I don't think that just stopping him will stop it all, I think it's too far gone for that. Not that I have any idea how…"

Huh. It didn't take Spencer long to come up with an answer. Or perhaps a suggestion. "You might consider becoming a technical analyst."

"Like Penelope? I've never even touched a computer…"

"No. Technical analysts engage in the process of examining data that is relevant to a given situation and developing recommendations that are anticipated to produce desirable results. Garcia is an expert at acquiring data, yes, but another kind of analyst is someone who is an expert on a particular kind of criminal. You're the only one to come out of one of these cults who's been willing to work with us long-term. You have experience none of the rest of us has."

She was quiet a moment. "Is that really all that useful?"

"It's a growing threat. Speaking for the national security community we need all the help we can get."

"Yes but…I don't know how to put what I know into words others would understand. And I certainly can't go out…"

"That's the sort of thing you can learn in college. And, um, analysts are office jobs, they should be accessible."

She settled back with her tea and a thoughtful look. "Well that's something to think about, isn't it?"

He smiled. He'd given her more of a future to consider, a good evening's work there. "Any more to this letter?"

"Yes…"


Later on she walked him out to the porch. "I have a question for you." Susanna said. "Everyone else swears by coffee in the morning, but they also swear it's addictive. Should I try it or not?"

"As a lifelong addict I would say avoid it if you can." Just then something curled inside him. He hadn't even thought of that in so long. He'd told Maeve back when he was consulting her on his headaches, before something more…

She must have sensed the change in his mood. "Spencer?"

"I…I was just reminded of another long story I need to tell you. The short form is that I made a mistake once, a bad one. But I did what I could to fix it and I haven't repeated it in a long time."

"How long?"

"Five years, ten months, twenty-nine days."

"Well whatever it is, with that much time under the bridge I won't worry."

Fair enough. "All right. As for coffee I'll bring over some decaf for you to try."

She smiled. "Thank you. Are you going back to work tomorrow?"

"Yes. And probably out of town for a few days." How could he when she was so vulnerable? "If you need anything call Garcia or Will, all right? And I'll call if we go and when we come back."

"Of course, but I should be fine. Thank you." For a long moment they stood there, as he admired her, so ghostly in the moonlight, as something thick and warm grew in the spaces around them. "They must not win." She murmured.

"No." He reached out and pulled her back into his arms, warm and willowy and such a perfect fit. For a moment he hung on as if life itself mattered as her breath on his skin sent his heart to pounding. "Good night Susanna." He said before letting go.

"Good night Spencer."