Los Angeles, Henry, 2014
I feel pride rise up in my chest. She killed him. She saved herself. But she shouldn't have had to do that. She was part of a CIA team, and her team should have found her before she spent a year anywhere. I have so many more questions in this moment than I did even ten minutes ago. I'm trying to pace this conversation, as to not overwhelm her, but one slips out of my mouth anyway.
"Why did they tell me you were dead, instead of MIA?"
She shrugs a tad, and I notice she barely moves her left shoulder. I make a note to ask about that later.
"I've never gotten a good answer to that question." She looks guilty.
Los Angeles, Elizabeth, 2014
It's a lie. I have gotten a good answer to that question. I just think maybe, right now, it's better for me to be the sole bearer of that information. Especially now that the person responsible for this entire situation is the President of the United States. Henry would do the righteous thing, the thing I wasn't strong enough to do at the time I found out the whole truth. But he would lose. So, I will grin and bear it alone.
"Maybe we should get a good answer, Elizabeth." He tells me, his eyes full of the righteous anger I knew would be there.
"Maybe." I try to stall. He sees through me.
"What aren't you telling me, babe?" I look back out into the water and then back at him. His face is hard now, his brain trying to piece together a story when he doesn't have any information.
"Conrad did this!" I blurt it out before I can stop myself. My heart starts to hammer in my chest again, and I start taking controlled breaths. How am I supposed to protect them all? He doesn't look as shocked as he should, but then again Henry never trusted Conrad.
"Can you elaborate on that?" There is an edge to his voice now, he's slowly losing his battle with anger. I nod, the cat's out of the bag now. Maybe we can deal with this, together?
"First I want to say, that ultimately, it was my decision not to come home." I want him to know that I don't absolve myself of any guilt. I was in an impossible situation, because I was put there by forces beyond my control. But that doesn't mean I couldn't knock on that door. That doesn't mean I had to use drugs. That doesn't mean I couldn't go to back to Pittsburgh once I got sober.
"I am responsible for the decision's I made after I knew the truth." I tell him.
Los Angeles, Henry, 2014
I don't think it's that cut and dry. I know she was traumatized, it doesn't take a physiatrist to figure that one out. And while I do believe her when she says it was her decision not to come home, I have a feeling that there is more to that too.
"I'm sure you had your reasons."
"I tried. To come home." She starts, "By the time George and I put all the pieces together of what had happened –" She stops, and I realize, I didn't see a ghost that night.
Pittsburgh, Henry, 2006
I'm looking down at Robert, Jessica's holding Andrew. They are really beautiful babies. I love them, unconditionally. I've been amazed at the instantaneous love I feel for my children every time I have been lucky enough to have one. Everything in this moment is perfect, as the older three, still dubbed Team McCord as Elizabeth always called all three of them, fawn over the twins. But then I hear it, and it takes every bit of self-control I have not to react poorly.
"I love you, mama." Jason says. Correction, Jason says to a woman who is not his mother. The feeling of failure settles over me when I catch a glimpse of blonde hair walking away from our sidewalk. I failed her. I'm letting someone else help me raise our kids, and our lucky number three just called that someone else, mom.
Los Angeles, Elizabeth, 2014
"You were at the house. The new one in Pittsburgh, the night the twins came home." His face twists in horror at the realization. And my voiceless confirmation must twist the knife.
"Oh, God. It wasn't a ghost, you were there. You were right there and I missed it." He starts to cry now, really cry. He holds his head and lets out quiet sobs. I've been waiting for his emotions to overtake him. I've only ever seen him cry like this once before, when his grandma died when we were in college. I scoot closer to him and start rubbing his back. He sits up a little and hesitates for a fraction of a second before engulfing me in hug. I tense out of habit, and he starts to pull away, but I stop him. I pull him close and tuck my head into the crook of his neck. I don't care that this could be considered inappropriate as he is now someone else's husband. I don't care that I have no idea what happens tomorrow. I breathe him in and I'm home. He is still my home.
Los Angeles, Henry, 2014
This feels right, holding her. She still fits so perfectly in my arms. God, how I've missed her. There is still so many questions to be answered. What did Conrad do? How do we handle Team McCord? What do I tell Jessica?
But right now, I just want to hold her close. Watch the sunset over the pacific and pretend that everything has magically been fixed.
"I missed you," I whisper into her hair. She squeezes me tighter.
"I missed you too." She says sleepily.