Friday, October 30, 1987

9:05 p.m.

"So, what did Jamie have to say for himself?" Mother asked as she handed me another dish. 

"Not much."  I studied the pattern on the plate as I wiped it dry.  "I told him we'd discuss it tonight.  I was just too angry to deal with him this afternoon."

"Since Mrs. Dennis suspended him for three days, I suppose you'll have plenty of time."  Mother scrunched her forehead.  "Honestly, what was the boy thinking, tossing bricks at the school windows like that?"

"Supposedly that part was Tommy Lipman's idea.  Jamie only intended to soap them."

"I thought Tommy Lipman was Phillip's friend."  She handed me the serving bowl, adding with a frown, "Aren't they in the same grade?"

"They were, but Tommy was held back a year, so he's still at the Middle School."

"That Lipman boy is trouble, Amanda, I've always said so.  And those parents of his . . . Well, all I can say is, I've never believed Frank Lipman only imports olive oil for a living, if you follow my drift."

I rolled my eyes.  "Mother, the Lipmans are very nice people—"

"Whose son happens to be a juvenile delinquent in training," she finished, with a pointed shake of her head.

"Yeah, well, apparently so is mine."  I folded the dishcloth and placed it on the kitchen table.  "I suppose this can't be put off any longer.  I'd better go have a talk with him."

"If I were you, I'd ground him for at least a month.  You've got to nip this kind of thing in the bud, Amanda, and . . ." 

Her concern turned to alarm as I abruptly grabbed my stomach.  "Is everything all right?" she demanded, rushing to my side.  "Is it the baby?"

"Yes," I whispered through gathering tears.

"Stand right there.  I'll call the doctor."

Her distress snapped me out of my trance.  "No, Mother, it's not that . . ."  I gripped her arm.  "Well, it is, but not the way you think.  The baby, it . . . it kicked."

"Oh, Amanda!  Where . . ."

"Right here," I said, placing her hand on the left side of my swollen stomach.  "Do you feel it?"

"Yes, sweetheart."  Her voice sounded watery.  "It's wonderful."

I nodded, unable to reply.  I'd felt soft "flutterings" before, but this kick, tangible and real, was absolutely unmistakable.  It was almost as if Lee had sent me a message.  "Oh, Mother . . ." 

She slipped her arm around my shoulder.  "He'll be home soon, darling.  And then—"

"And then he's going to kill me for not telling him about the baby.  You were so right.  I should never have made this decision for him."

Mother hugged me lightly.  "What's done is done, Amanda, so there's no use worrying about what you can't change.  Better to concentrate on changing what you can."

I glanced toward the stairs.  "Like Jamie."

"Like Jamie.  Now, stop all this procrastinating and go talk to your son." 

I gave her a grateful smile then climbed the stairs, my mood considerably mellower.  Mother was right.  Lee would be home soon, and then these problems—the snide, hurtful remarks, Jamie's outrageous behavior, the long nights alone in our bed—would all be a thing of the past.  In the meantime, I'd just have to deal with the home front as best I could.

Starting with the boys.  I could hear their angry voices even before I reached the end of the hall.  I was just gearing up to put an end to the disagreement when Jamie's words brought me up short. 

"But it was way embarrassing.  And with Tommy Lipman's big mouth, it's going to be all over school in no time."

"Well, what did you expect, Bozo?" Phillip chimed in.  "Did you think Mrs. Dennis wouldn't call her?"

There was a pregnant pause as we both waited for the answer.  "I asked her to call Dad, not Mom.  Why'd she have to come?"

"If she hadn't come, you might have had to spend the night in juvenile detention." 

"Yeah, well, that might have been better than what happened."  The springs creaked loudly, the way they did whenever Jamie flopped down hard on the bed.  "I'm never gonna be able to show my face at school again now that everyone knows she's pregnant."

I bit down hard on my lower lip.  I'd thought Jamie was upset over the brick-throwing incident, but that wasn't the case at all—at least, not in the way I'd imagined.  My son wasn't ashamed to face me; he was ashamed of me.

At least Phillip had the consideration to come to my defense.  "Oh, don't be so dramatic," he told his brother.  "It's not the end of the world."

"Yeah, but it's so . . . gross.  I mean, at her age . . ."  Jamie groaned then added in a familiarly stubborn voice, "I just don't see how she could do that."

Phillip laughed.  "It's not like she hasn't done it before.  How do you think we got here, dog breath?  God, you're such a baby sometimes."

"You think you're so grown up just because you've got a girlfriend," he spat out angrily.  "If you're so okay about everything, then why didn't you invite Mom to Linda's house before the dance, huh?  All the other parents were there to take pictures."

"She'd just gone back to work," Phillip responded after a beat, an odd tightness in his voice.  "She was tired.  That's why I asked Dad and Carrie instead."

I tightened my grip on the doorknob.  Phillip had taken his current heartthrob, Linda Montez, to the Homecoming dance, but this was the first I'd heard about any party at her house.  A party Carrie had evidently attended in my place . . . 

Jamie sniggered.  "You can't snow me, Phillip.  I'm not Dad, you know, or Grandma, either.  I totally get how you feel."

My sigh sounded remarkably like steam from a kettle that was about to blow.  First those catty women at the Agency, and now my own sons . . . it was definitely too much for one day. 

I pushed through the door without knocking.  Jamie sat Indian-style on his bed, his glasses askew, while Phillip sprawled on the floor, his legs stretched out on front of him as he leaned against the dresser.  Folding my arms across my chest, I looked down into their surprised faces.  "Okay," I said, struggling to hold onto what was left of my temper.  "We need to have a little talk."

"Um, sure, Mom."  Phillip's discomfiture was readily apparent as he scrambled up.  "I'll just leave you guys alone."

"Stay here, please, Phillip," I ordered before he could bolt for the door.  "What I have to say concerns you as well as Jamie."

Swallowing hard, he sat down on the edge of his bed, fixing his gaze on the Star Wars poster hanging on the wall.  Jamie appeared equally unnerved; his lower lip trembled slightly as he picked at a loose thread on the edge of his blanket.  They were obviously worried about what I might have overheard. 

Watching them squirm, I felt my fierce flash of anger burn itself out.  They both seemed so young and vulnerable; it made my heart ache just to look at them.  I longed to turn back the clock to a simpler time, when all it took was a big hug to make their world okay again.

But they weren't my little boys any more.  In the blink of an eye they'd changed into young men.  Were they old enough to understand that adults didn't have all the answers?  That even the strongest, wisest, most capable of us were as prone to mistakes as they were?  That sometimes, despite our best intentions, we hurt the very people we loved the most? 

I let out a sigh.  Of course they weren't.  That was something I was only beginning to grasp myself. 

"Listen, fellas."  My voice shook as I sat beside Jamie.  "I know there are a lot of changes in your lives right now and sometimes it's hard to know how to deal with all that." 

The boys exchanged a put upon glance.  "I don't blame you guys for feeling confused," I forged ahead with what I hoped was an understanding smile, "Lee and I, your dad and Carrie . . . it's got to be hard sometimes to figure out where we all fit into your lives.  But the bottom line is, we're all your family, and we only want what's best for the two of you."

Their silence continued; I tried a different tack.  "Look, guys, I know you're angry about the way Lee and I lied to you—"

"We're not angry," Phillip said.  "Not exactly.  We're just . . ."  He shrugged and dug his foot into the carpet.

I looked into his clear blue eyes then into Jamie's darker ones.  "Yes, you are.  And it's okay to feel that way.  I'd be mad, too, if I were in your shoes."

Jamie cocked his head.  "You would?"

"Yes, Jamie, I would.  I may not have set out to hurt you guys, but that's exactly what happened, and for that I really am sorry." 

"It's okay."  Phillip jabbed his finger through a worn spot on the comforter.  I'd been meaning to replace that old quilt but somehow hadn't been able to find the time.  "We understand why you did it and all," he continued, a funny, quivering sound in his voice.  "You took an oath."

"That doesn't make what I did okay."  Suddenly I was back in the Q-Bureau, listening to Lee tell me that he wanted to end our marriage.  "A lie is a lie, sweetheart, even if it's done for the best reason in the world."

They nodded, still not looking directly at me, and I let out a sigh.  "Maybe it's time for you guys to be really honest with me.  I know you're not thrilled that I'm pregnant, and I'm sorry about that.  But, like it or not, this baby is going to be your brother or sister, and you're going to have to find a way to deal with that." 

An uneasy silence settled over the room.   "We know, Mom," Phillip said at last.  "It's just that . . . well, sometimes . . ."

"I know.  The timing isn't the best.  But we don't get to pick and choose life's moments, Phillip.  Sometimes they take you by surprise and pull you in directions you'd never planned."

"Like when you met Lee?" he asked.

"Something like that."  My tone softened.  "You know, your Dad and I didn't exactly intend to have you guys while he was still in law school, but that didn't make us love either of you any less.  Or make us any less happy about what had happened, however unexpected."

"I guess.  But at least people knew you guys were married."  Phillip narrowed his eyes as he brought his gaze level with mine. "If lying is so wrong, like you've been telling us, how come we can't tell everyone the truth about you and Lee?"

I drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out again.  "Because the job Lee's doing right now is very . . . tricky.  If people knew we were married, there's a chance it could put us all in danger.  A small chance, but a chance nonetheless.  And that's a risk we can't afford to take."

"But if lying is so wrong," he insisted, "then why—"

"Phillip," I said sternly, drawing on my authority as his mother.  "You're just going to have to take my word on this.  I know I've asked a lot of you over the past few months," I included Jamie in my gaze, "both of you.  And I know it hasn't been fair.  But life isn't always fair, fellas.  Sometimes it asks more from you than you think it has a right to.  How you meet those demands determines what kind of a person you are.  Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Yeah."  Jamie twisted the pointed corner of the pillow between his fingers.  "You want us to pretend that everything's okay."

Puzzled, I frowned.  "Where on earth would you get an idea like that?"

Jamie raised his eyes to mine.  "Because that's exactly what you do.  You keep telling us that Lee's okay and everything is going to be just fine when you don't really know that at all.  You don't even know where he is, do you?"

"Not exactly, but—"

"Yeah, I thought so."  Jamie kicked his foot against the rung of the bed.  "You guys may be saving the world and everything, but I think your jobs really stink."

I started to explain once again about national security and "need to know," but the words died on my lips.  That was my reality, not theirs.  All they knew was that their lives had been turned upside down by something outside their control.  They were only children; they shouldn't be made to pay for my choices. 

I turned to them once more.  "You're right, Jamie.  Sometimes our jobs do stink.  That's one of the reasons we . . . well, that doesn't matter now.  What does matter is what you guys are going through.  We need to talk about your feelings—even the one's that aren't so pretty.  Otherwise, you're going to end up chucking more bricks through another school window."

"I guess.  It's just that . . ."  Jamie shrugged. 

"That what, sweetheart?  Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Maybe," he answered, in a low voice.  "We've been talking to Dad, and—"

"Shut up, worm brain!"  Phillip's anger burst through his voice.  "We said we weren't going to—"

"You said," Jamie shouted, just as hotly, "not me!"

"Okay, okay, neutral corners, both of you.  Phillip, your brother has something to say—let him say it.  Go on, Jamie," I prodded, giving him my full attention.

"Well," he began, ignoring Phillip's glare, "when we were at Dad's last weekend, he kind of mentioned something about us moving in with him."

I turned to my unusually silent older son.  "Is this true, Phillip?"

"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly.  "But only if you thought it was okay."

"I see."  My jaw clenched.  How noble of Joe—he only wanted to take my sons away from me if I was "okay" with it.  "And what did you guys tell him?"

"We told him we didn't know," Phillip put in quickly. "I mean, we love Dad and all that, but . . ."

I nodded.  "Is that how you feel, too, Jamie?"

His foot kicked the bedrail harder this time.  "Sometimes I think it might be okay.  I don't know."

"Okay," I said as calmly as I could, "that's fair.  You don't have to make a decision right now.  Maybe we should all just think about this for a while."

Phillip looked at me with wide eyes.  "Do you want us to live with Dad?"

"No, Phillip I don't.  I love you guys, and I'd miss you, more than I can say.  But I won't tell you what to do.  You're old enough to make this decision on your own.  Whatever you decide, I guess I'll have to learn to accept it, just the way I expect you guys to accept the decisions I've made."  I took a deep breath and stood up.  "I think we've done enough talking for one night.  You both need to get some sleep.  Tomorrow's a busy day."

I started for the door, but Jamie's voice called me back.  "I love you, Mom," he cried, choking down a sob. 

I blinked back my tears.  "I know you do.  And I love you, too.  Both of you."  I opened my arms and kissed each head in turn as they stepped into my embrace.  "I'm so sorry, guys.  I wish I could change what's happened and the way it's happened, but I can't.  And I can't take back the lies.  What I can do is promise that, from now on, I'll be honest with you.  I hope you'll do the same." 

Jamie gulped and nodded, while Phillip replied quietly, "Okay."

"Good."  I gave them my best imitation of a smile.  "Now, get to bed.  And don't forget to brush your teeth."

They mumbled their goodnights as I closed the door, but I was too numb to reply.  Somehow, I managed to reach my room and collapse on the bed.  I fought to stifle the sob that forced its way out of my throat, but it was no use.  Using the pillow to muffle my cries, I finally let out the tears that had been threatening all day. 

Damn Joe King anyway!  How dare he speak to the boys about moving in with him without even discussing it with me!  Here he was again, making unilateral decisions about my life.  First, he arbitrarily decided to withhold Lee's letter; now he wanted to steal my children. 

I choked down another cry.  Of course, if Lee had come to me with the truth in the first place, Joe would never have been put in such an untenable position.  Damn him and his stupid Agency code.  Expediency, my foot!  And damn every bureaucrat who'd ever sat in their sterile offices, penning rules and regulations that destroyed innocent people's lives.  If I could get my hands on the lot of them right now, I'd happily wring all their necks!

The phone rang.  I grabbed it and bellowed, "Hello!"

It was Mr. Melrose.  "Uh, hello, Amanda," he said, a strange accent in his voice.  "I hope I'm not intruding."

I ground my teeth, wishing I'd had the sense to let Mother pick up.  "I'm sorry, sir, I guess you kind of caught me at a bad time."

"I'm sorry, too.  But I need to talk to you.  It can't wait."

I wondered what else could possibly go wrong tonight.  "Is there a problem at the Agency, sir?" I asked, hoping I was wrong. 

He dodged the question with an ambiguous, "Yes and no."

"I suppose I could come in if you need me to," I offered, secretly hoping he wouldn't take me up on it.

"That won't be necessary."  He paused again.  "Crumwald called me tonight from London.  There's been a . . . development . . . regarding Lee's case.  I wasn't sure if I should tell you this, but I did promise to keep you informed.  If I were in your shoes, I'd want to know."

"Know what, sir?"  The baby kicked inside me again, alive and strong. 

"Amanda," Billy said as gently as he could, "it's Lee.  He's missed his last three check-ins."