"Cold?" he
asked, casting a quick look at Joe's shivering form.
"A little,"
Joe replied, rubbing his arms vigorously. "Felt like this the last day or
so. It comes and goes."
Lee threw a few more
twigs on the dwindling fire. "We can't let it get much higher. I don't
want to take the chance of being spotted."
"I can live with
being cold," Joe said, his chattering teeth belying that statement.
"But what would really hit the spot right now is a home cooked meal. Hell,
I'd even settle for some of those crazy concoctions that Carrie calls
food."
Lee rubbed his neck,
twisting away from Joe to hide his grimace.
"Yeah, I
know," Joe commiserated. "Carrie's an awful cook. She dearly loves to take those cooking
classes, but I wish she'd get a new hobby." He gave a short laugh.
"For all our sakes."
Lee laughed
conspiratorially. "Maybe when you get back you can kinda steer her in
another direction."
"Right now, I'd
give my eye teeth for the chance." He leaned back, resting his head on his
hand as he struggled for a comfortable spot on the unyielding ground. "You
think they're right behind us, don't you?"
"I haven't seen any
sign that we're being followed."
Joe laughed mirthlessly.
"I feel a 'but' coming."
"But," Lee
grinned grimly, "I have a bad feeling. . ." He leaned back against a
large boulder, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "It's
probably nothing. Too bad Houdini can't land at night." He sighed again.
"He'll be here at daybreak, then we'll be out of this mess once and for
all."
"We'd be out of
here by now if I hadn't been holding us back," Joe stated apologetically.
"I'm sorry I've been such a burden – I guess I'm better suited to pushing
papers across my desk than my body across country like this."
"You're being too
hard on yourself, Joe. After what you've been through, you've done as well as
can be expected. Better, even." He gave a short laugh. "Hey, look on
the bright side, things could be worse – at least we're not handcuffed
together."
"Handcuffed?"
"Just thinking of
another time. Uh, Amanda and I found ourselves in that position once upon a
time in the Virginia woods. Running from a group of self-proclaimed
survivalists. We ended up in a swamp, cold, damp and hungry." Lee chuckled
softly. "Interesting night."
"I still have hard
time picturing Amanda in your. . . line of work," Joe said incredulously.
"She always seemed so content to stay at home and raise the boys."
"She still loves
raising the boys. She's just developed a few other interests as well."
"That's exactly
what she told me when I came home from Africa. She wasn't the same woman I'd
married, that's for sure. She was. . . I don't know, so much more." He
smiled sadly. "Or maybe she'd been that way all along, but I was just too
preoccupied with my own issues to notice."
"People change,
Joe," he said after a minute of awkward silence. "Sometimes we get so
caught up in what we want to see that we miss the obvious."
Joe shook his head,
stifling a groan as he carefully shifted his leg to a more comfortable
position. "When we first met, Amanda was so full of life," he said
wistfully. "Always ready for anything. I think that's what attracted me in
the first place. I guess we never took
the time to talk about what we really wanted. Seemed like everyone we knew was
getting married. I guess it was kind of
like running downhill; we were just swept along. Maybe we should have taken the time to really get to know each
other."
Lee smiled to himself.
"Become friends first."
"Yeah," Joe
said in a strangled voice. "I guess for us, friendship came along too late
in the game."
He paused, and Lee
watched the older man's eyes grow dark as he relived a distant memory. "We
both had such big dreams. . . the kind you have when you're very young and see
the world a certain way. But then Phillip was born, and Jamie so soon after,
and I don't know, things just changed. Amanda wanted a home, a picket fence –
the whole nine yards. I still wanted to conquer the world. Having children
seemed to pull us in different directions."
Lee nodded, looking away
from Joe and into the waning fire. Amanda's fluctuating moods these past few
months suddenly made perfect sense; her reluctance to cut back at work even
when she clearly needed rest, her annoyance when he offered even the simplest
assistance. He could see now that her responses had less to do with hormones
and more to do with the echoes of her past.
Joe picked up a small
twig, drawing a line back and forth in the dirt. "I have a confession to
make," he stated softly, glancing up at Lee. "That summer after Carrie broke things off, I thought maybe
there was a chance. . . a chance for Amanda and I to finally pick up where we'd
left off all those years ago." He cleared his throat, tossing the twig
into the fire. "I was such a fool, refusing to acknowledge what was right
in front of me. Amanda was a different woman when I returned from Africa, but
you were the one who brought that wonderful sense of adventure back, not
me."
"No, it wasn't me,
either," Lee said in a quiet voice. "It was Amanda." He smiled
softly, picturing the woman he'd first met at that train station years before,
the woman he'd overlooked for so long. He couldn't take responsibility for her
transformation. It was something she'd done herself, an accomplishment he knew
she looked on with pride. Somewhere between the bomb threats and the bake
sales, she'd achieved the perfect balance.
The same way he had
evolved. Looking back, he couldn't fix the day or the hour when it had
happened. He only knew that he woke up one morning and hamburgers had become
more palatable than vichyssoise, the late night movie more appealing than
nightclubs, and one woman more attractive than all the names in his four black
books combined.
"Tell me something, Lee," Joe entreated,
his voice jarring as it disturbed his reverie. "Why'd you come down here
after me? Not that I don't appreciate it, but we haven't been. . . well, let's
just say things between us have been polite at best."
"Why did you help me when I was in trouble with
the Agency?" Lee queried.
"Because you mattered to Amanda," Joe told
him honestly. "When she thought you were dead, well. . . something died in
her, too. If I could bring that spark back by helping you, then I was glad to
do it." He let out a breath. "And after everything she'd done for me,
it seemed the least I could do."
"Ditto," Lee echoed softly. "Amanda
tends to have that effect, doesn't she?"
"She must be out of her mind with worry."
He stretched out on the
ground, hands pillowed behind his head as he looked up at the night sky.
"She understands," Lee stated succinctly. He hadn't explained his
actions to Amanda in so many words; she'd known, the same way she always did,
that this was something he'd been compelled to do. Even so, he knew he belonged
back in Rockville with her, not out here in the middle of nowhere.
For a brief moment, he
allowed himself to think about his wife, safe and warm at home. . . their home.
How he loved that little parcel of land and the life they'd made together, its
very normalcy somehow strangely imposing. Still, everything about the place appealed to him - the white shutters
contrasting against the red brick, the stone edging Amanda had chosen with
careful concern, the flower beds Dotty had tended with aching care last summer,
secure in the knowledge that this time they wouldn't end up mysteriously
trampled. And in the upper right hand
window, the lone light that always burned late at night to welcome him.
"You know, I told
myself I came down here for Phillip and Jamie," he told Joe at last,
"but honestly speaking, I think it had more to do with me."
Joe rolled on his side,
giving him a puzzled look. "I don't understand."
"It's complicated," Lee said in a low
voice, wondering a little that he was baring his soul to, of all people, Joe
King. Their trial by fire must be having an unexpected side effect, or maybe
that ring around the slivered moon cast some odd truth spell. He only knew that
for some unfathomable reason, he needed Joe to understand.
"I was five when my parents were killed,"
he began in a strained voice, absently rubbing a small scratch on his hand.
"And afterwards, I, uh, went to live with my uncle."
"The Colonel,
right?"
"Right. Although
growing up, I think I had a few other words for him," he grunted softly.
"It wasn't easy – my uncle was gone a lot, busy with maneuvers. I guess he
wasn't exactly equipped to handle a kid."
Rolling over, he sat up,
running a hand through his mussed hair. "Anyway, every time my uncle would
go off on one of his missions, I used to pretend that he'd gone to bring my
parents back. I'd build up this whole
crazy scenario in my head." He gave a bitter laugh, his brow wrinkling at
the recollection. "Of course, my fantasy never happened; dead is dead. But
the thing is, you weren't - dead, I mean - so for Phillip and Jamie, the
fantasy could come true." He sucked in another breath, looking Joe in the
eye. "It's hard to lose a parent,
whether you're five. . .or fifteen."
"Thank you,"
Joe said simply. "I really do appreciate everything you've done; not only
for me, but for Phillip and Jamie, too. I guess I haven't always been the most attentive father, but I love my
sons. I've tried so hard to make it up to them for missing out on so much of their
lives, but it isn't easy." Joe sighed,
settling back against the hard ground. "Especially now that they have
another father figure in their lives."
"I may live with
them, Joe, but you're the one they call Dad – that will never change."
"I've seen the way
Phillip looks up to you, Lee. Believe me, it's pretty hard to compete with that
kind of hero worship."
He laughed shortly.
"I don't think you have to worry. Phillip and I aren't on speaking terms
at the moment. Trust me, I'm much less glamorous as an authority figure."
Joe shook his head.
"You really don't see it, do you? What do think this whole football thing
last fall was all about? He only wanted to play because he's heard you talk
about your college football days."
"I don't think. .
." He paused, running a hand through his hair. Amanda had intimated the
same thing on a few occasions, but he'd brushed it off. Suddenly, Phillip's
behavior over the past few months became a lot clearer. His withdrawal from
family activities, his surly attitude about the new baby; they were classic signs
of jealousy, and he'd been too caught up in the wonder of expectant fatherhood
to notice. He winced, remembering the
accusatory look in his stepson's eyes that night in the car. He shouldn't have
kept their fight from Amanda. If he'd talked to her instead of trying to
'spare' her. . . he let out a breath. Maybe one of these days he'd finally
learn.
"Listen, Joe,"
he said firmly. "I've made my share of mistakes, too - especially with
Phillip. I guess it's pretty obvious he's feeling none too secure right now."
He looked down at the older man. "Maybe when we get back we could both try
to change that."
"You mean try to
work together for a change?"
"Yeah," Lee
agreed. "As Amanda told me a few weeks ago, it's not the mistakes that
matter – it's how you deal with them."
Joe offered his hand.
"As friends, then?"
"As friends,"
Lee echoed, grasping it firmly. His eyes met Joe's for a moment, then darted
away in embarrassed emotion. "Come on," he urged, resting his head on his
elbow as he settled in for the night. "Try and get some sleep – with any
luck, by this time tomorrow we'll be on a plane, headed home."