Chapter 55

Chegwidden pulled into his driveway and stopped the car. He looked at Charlie.

"What are you going to do, now?" he asked.

Charlie shrugged. "Go home. What else?"

"Where is your home?" Faith asked.

"New Jersey. Little place called Dennis. Been living there for nearly thirty years, and I'm ready to go back as long as no one will be trying to kill me this time."

"Shouldn't be, but that's a long drive. Why don't you stay the night and get an early start in the morning?"

Charlie just smiled and shook his head.

"No, thanks. I'm ready to go home. It's only a few hours' drive. I've done my part."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Besides, even if someone was trying to kill me, it wouldn't change what I did today. Thanks for the offer, but I just want to go home. It's not much, but it's mine and I haven't left it for a long time."

Chegwidden put out his hand and Charlie shook it. Then, he got in his car and drove away. Faith watched him go.

"This is not how I expected all this to end. I really thought it would go all the way to a trial."

"I hoped that it wouldn't," Chegwidden said. "An actual trial would mean that it was much more likely the world would know about it. It's harder to get the right outcome when you have to deal with the public, too. They usually make things worse. As it is, they'll know about Stidden, not about Sam."

"True."

"Well, Captain, what are you going to do now?"

Faith actually smiled. "I'm going to go home, eat something, finish out the week and then take some time off. If someone else shows up because they didn't get the memo that it's over, I'm going to kill them or sic my friend's dog on them. Anubis would make them question the wisdom of attacking me."

"Anubis?" Chegwidden asked.

"A big, black dog. He's kind of adopted me as an occasional family member, so when they go out of town, he stays with me. He's a very good guard dog. Actually, even with a dog walker, he'll be getting a little antsy. I'd better get home. Thank you for everything, sir."

"I was only moral support, Captain."

"That's what I needed."

"You can have it anytime, Captain Coleman."

"Thank you."

Then, Faith walked to her own car and drove away, leaving Chegwidden alone to consider how it had all fallen out. There had been something about Tim that had kept everyone from being as happy and celebratory as they might have been, otherwise. It might have just been as simple as needing time to absorb everything, but regardless, he had cast a bit of a pall over the group.

Well, Chegwidden knew his part was definitely over, now.

...but that didn't stop him from hoping he got to know about when things got back on an even keel.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was lying on the pullout couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that it was all right to go to sleep.

He'd been awake for an hour so far, and he was listening to the silence.

Then, there was a creak and he sat up quickly, his heart pounding as he looked around.

"I thought you would still be awake."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out quickly, trying to calm himself down again. There was no reason to worry. It was over.

"Why are you, Dad?" he asked.

"Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 'Sleep. Oh, how I loathe those little slices of death.'"

Sam wheeled over to where Tim was sitting.

"You ready to talk about it?"

"No."

"How about we talk about it, anyway."

"There's nothing to talk about. I know you don't think I should have done what I did. I feel differently. You're not going to convince me that I was wrong. I'm not going to convince you that I was right. What else is there to say?"

Sam reached out and put his hand on Tim's knee.

"Why did you feel you had to?"

"Because I'm selfish and I couldn't stand how I would have felt if I had to watch you go to prison or worse. What I wrote in the letter I left for you wasn't really true."

"What do you mean?"

"Not for self but for father. I was really doing it for myself."

"And for me," Sam corrected.

"Yes, but it was really me. I couldn't deal with it. All I could think of was if there was some way for me to take your place. And if I had to go to prison instead of you, I would do it."

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"For what?"

"For what I put you through thirty years ago. I still remember your face when you thought I wanted you to leave, when you were afraid of me. I've never forgiven myself for forgetting you in the midst of everything else that was going on."

"I have," Tim said. "I forgave you as soon as you said you were sorry."

"Even if you did, you didn't forget it."

"No, but it's okay. You said you were sorry and I knew you meant it."

"I did, and I'm even more sorry that you can't let go of that need to protect me or that fear of losing me. You shouldn't feel that way. I'm your father. I should be protecting you, but I couldn't shield you from everything that happened."

Tim sighed and stood up. He turned away from Sam.

"It's not because of what happened when I was eight. What they were trying to do to you was wrong, and I did what I had to, so that it would go right."

"Yes, it was wrong, but most people would have focused on making sure the trial went right. Sarah didn't even insist that she come home when we told her that we'd keep her up to date on everything. She's going to come back soon, but she didn't feel that same fear you did. Because she never had the same experiences you did. She never saw me as low as you did, and if I could, I would have you forget those days."

"I wouldn't. Yes, it was hard to see, but..." Tim turned back. "Dad, I..." He didn't know how to put it into words. He walked over and sat down so that he was eye to eye with him. "I can't think of a quote. I don't know the words. I remember one day. I don't remember how old I was or exactly what the situation was, but I was outside, watching the clouds. My teacher had told me about them and they were the most fascinating thing in the world. You came out and lay down by me and let me tell you all about them. You never made me feel like what I was telling you didn't matter. You mean so much to me, Dad, and it's because of everything, not just the good days. Not just the bad days. It's all of it. I know it's making this all about me, but if they had convicted you...I don't know if I could have dealt with it. So I was willing to do anything it would take to make sure I didn't have to find out if I could."

Sam put on the brakes and then pulled Tim into a tight hug.

"I love you so much, Dad."

"And I love you, Tim. Shakespeare. 'When a father gives to his son, both laugh. When a son gives to his father...'" He took a shaky breath. "'...both cry.'"

For a long time, Tim just hugged his father, feeling secure in the knowledge that this wouldn't be the last time he saw him, the last time he was free. Whatever else might be wrong, that much was right.

Finally, Tim sat up again, wiping at his eyes a little. He was still not wanting to cry, no matter how glad he was that this had worked out.

"How did you even think of focusing on Charlie?" Sam asked, after a few minutes. "I never told you about him, and that was on purpose. There was only that one picture in the photo album."

"Actually, there were a few, but he wasn't in the foreground. He was in the background of most of them. It was because of when he showed up in the photo album and when he stopped showing up. It seemed too much of a coincidence. Then, when I tried to look at his military record and I couldn't find it, I couldn't think of any other reason why it would be hidden, unless he was part of the operation."

"Did you talk to him?"

Tim nodded, still unsure if he should tell Sam that Charlie had been there.

"And?"

"And I know I must have seen him when I was a kid, but I don't really remember him at all."

"You were young, and there were a lot of other things to think about at the time," Sam said. "What did you think of him?"

"I feel sorry for him. Not because of what he did to you. I don't know if I can let that go, but...it's like I told you. He's all alone, Dad. He never married. He told me that his own mother doesn't care about him and hasn't for most of his life. When his dad died, he went to the funeral and no one had even realized that his parents had more than one son."

"He never was willing to take a risk," Sam said. "I told him that he should. I always thought he'd settle down, eventually."

"Well, I guess he did, but not with anyone."

"How much time did you spend talking to him?"

"Uh..."

"What?"

"I found him at his house in New Jersey and then...as long as it took to drive down here."

"What? He's here? In DC?"

"Probably not anymore. I'll bet he went back as soon as he could. He was at the State Department, today."

"He was? I never saw him."

"He hid whenever you and Mom were around."

"Oh."

Sam seemed nonplussed and then a little frustrated.

"He hasn't changed. Can't face me, even after thirty years." Then, he looked back at Tim. "But he admitted that he lied."

Tim nodded.

"Why did he?"

"He said that they threatened him, and he didn't have anyone to back him up."

"He always said that, you know," Sam said, with a sigh. "I told him that I had his back, but he said it wasn't the same. He would never tell me the same as what."

"As family," Tim said, softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you know that he had a brother?"

"No. He said that he didn't really have any family and he didn't like to talk about it. So I let him avoid it. No sense in rubbing salt in a wound when it wasn't necessary."

"He said that his parents loved his brother, that he was the perfect guy, the one everyone liked. Charlie said that he was just the playmate for the perfect child, but Darryl got cancer and died, and his parents just didn't care about anyone or anything else. He never even went home to see them. Not ever, that he said."

"Not the same as having a family. But he could have had that. Your mother and I always tried to give him support, especially when it was clear that he didn't really have much of it. He just wouldn't accept that."

"He said that Mom stepped in when no one else would have, but he was a little embarrassed by it and wouldn't tell me what that meant. Do you know?"

Sam thought about it and then actually smiled a little, although there was more than a hint of sadness in the expression.

"Yes. Charlie's pretty well off, or he was..."

"He still is."

Sam nodded. "He never needed money, and one thing I'll say for him, he wasn't stingy. He wasn't really a spendthrift, either, but he liked being able to give people things. Based on what you said, I can see why that would be the case. There was a woman who latched onto him. It was clear to everyone that she was really only interested in his money, not him. It was clear to everyone...except Charlie himself. In the end, she tried to rob him, but Naomi saw through her and stood up for him. She tracked the woman down, forced her to give back what she'd taken and got her arrested. Charlie tried to say that it didn't matter, that she could have the money, but you know your mother. She wouldn't accept that. What had happened was wrong and it needed to be made right. I think that's the last time Charlie ever dated anyone seriously. He just wouldn't take the risk." Sam sighed and shook his head. "But I sure liked him. He was always trying a little too hard to be the right person, but I liked him, all the same."

"That's why it hurt," Tim said, softly.

Sam nodded again. "I wonder if it would have hurt as much if I wasn't still trying to deal with the mission itself." Then, he looked at Tim and smiled a little. "Probably would have, but I wouldn't have hurt you as much."

"Dad, you didn't hurt me. That was one moment and all that happened was that I just didn't understand what was going on. I knew you were sad and then, you were angry, but I didn't think about anyone outside the house being the reason. I knew you weren't mad at Mom, and I was the only one left. I thought if I stayed out of the way, you wouldn't be mad at me, anymore."

"Tim..."

"No," Tim said, smiling a little himself. "Don't apologize for something that happened that long ago. You weren't mad at me. You didn't want me gone. And when you realized what I thought, you said sorry and that's all that matters, now. That's all that mattered, then."

Suddenly, Sam's eyes filled with tears. Tim didn't know why.

"Dad..."

"You've saved my life three times now, Tim."

"What are you talking about?"

"You saved me today. You saved me from making the worst choice I could have made after the accident. And thirty years ago, you saved me from my anger when I let all my hurt blind me to everything that had meaning. All it took was you being there."

"No," Tim said. "No, you wouldn't have stayed like that, Dad. I didn't do anything except make you feel bad."

"I would hope that I wouldn't have, but what I know is that all you had to do was ask me not to send you away and I couldn't keep doing what I was doing to myself and to my family. Kent Nerburn. 'Until you have a son of your own . . . you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. You will never know the sense of honor that makes a man want to be more than he is and to pass something good and hopeful into the hands of his son. And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to be.'"

Tim hugged his father once more.

"You are the kind of man I always wanted to be, Dad. Always."

Sam hugged him back.

"I never wanted you to give up anything for me," he said, softly.

"I would have given up anything," Tim said in reply. "Anything."