Resolutions – 26
Calm Before the Storm
by MMB
Lawler watched the face of Carroll Hitchens, executive editor, as he read through the proposed first part in his investigative report on the Centre and its Pretender Project. After thoroughly digesting the information in the second packet, Lawler had spent the better part of the previous night typing and amending his preliminary column. His goal had been to make it provocative enough that it would both catch a reader's eye and appeal to the latent journalist that lay buried beneath bureaucracy and job security concerns inside every newspaper editor. Now he'd get to see just how good a job he'd done by trying it out on his editor.
The audacity and scope of what Lawler was suggesting the Centre had been up to for years had riveted Hitchens almost immediately. It was a story out of the Twilight Zone or TV science fiction, this idea that a powerful organization felt itself capable of kidnapping small children with impunity and then keeping them in isolation and virtual slavery indefinitely. And to think the current darling of the press, an absolutely stunningly beautiful CEO by the name of Miss Parker, not only knew about this but also had participated in such a thing was almost beyond understanding.
"You have proof of all this?" Hitchens whispered as if almost afraid of the answer.
"Circumstantial evidence," Lawler replied. "I have copies of internal memos and progress reports," Lawler answered, "Copies of missing persons reports and status reports from the agencies involved."
"Damn!"
"Yeah, that's what I said," Lawler breathed a sigh of relief. At least Hitchens hadn't rejected it out of hand.
"Any direct interviews?"
"Not yet," Lawler shook his head. "I wanted to run this past you first before I started asking for mileage and expenses to try to get interviews with any of the principles — IF I can find them or get them to talk to me, that is."
"Where the Hell did you get this?" Hitchens asked suddenly, frowning. "When last you and I spoke, you were wanting to dig deeper into this military conspiracy story from the Pentagon…"
"I had an informant literally dump part of it in my lap," Lawler told him honestly. "A package was delivered to my desk here at the Post. A second package came a couple of days later with the copies of the memos and reports. A person called me after each delivery…"
"'A person?' Nothing more definitive than that?" Hitchens was amazed — Lawler wasn't known for buying into crackpot stories from just anybody. "Was it a man or a woman?"
"It was a whisper," Lawler answered in frustration, "but I think it was a man. New England accent."
Hitchens put the pages of the preliminary article back in order and closed the file folder over them. "You realize that until I see something a whole lot more verifiable, I'm not going to allow this out in print?"
"What do you want to see?" Lawler sat back. Now came the dealing.
"I want copies of everything you have from this Whisper Man of yours, and I'll want copies of everything and anything else you get from this point onward."
Lawler shook his head, although he like the alias Hitchens had provided for his informant. He'd have to remember it. "If I have a source speaking to me anonymously, I'm not going to give you his or her name, you know…"
"I know that," Hitchens answered tiredly. "I know the drill. I don't want the names — but I want everything else that I might need to defend the integrity of the paper in a court of law. What you're doing here, if you don't dot your I's and cross your T's very carefully, is libel and slander — both against a person the public is particularly fond of right now and a powerful research firm with the money to hire very cut-throat lawyers to defend itself."
"I have enough to at least write an opening article that puts the questions out there, Carroll," Lawler countered. "I can hint at the skeleton of the information I've managed to gather so far and then openly ask the Centre to explain itself. With any luck, I can generate a little buzz and get the public asking the questions too. With the buzz started, a little pressure will be all I need to smoke out a malcontent or two who'll be more than happy to roll over on them. By then, I should have spoken to at least one or two of the principals involved — and will have dug up more dirt."
"Get to it, then," Hitchens pointed back out into the large room outside his glassed-in office. "Give me something vague yet enticing that I CAN print before end of evening run, and I'll put you in the morning edition. We'll hang onto this one as a more informative opener for when you have a LOT more rock-solid information and sources. But be careful, Dave. Get the questions out there, but don't make any accusations you can't already back up with something absolutely unimpeachable."
Lawler stood and stretched with a happy smile on his face. "You won't be sorry, Chief," he smirked and pulled open the door and headed back in the direction of his desk.
Pulitzer Prize, here I come, he thought to himself triumphantly.
Sydney stood in the doorway to the den and gave a contented sigh. The welcome home get-together for Jarod had gone remarkably well so far. Tyler, Sam and Jarod had been given the responsibility for the barbeque and had spent a good part of the afternoon sitting outdoors on Sydney's patio talking shop and getting to know each other better. Sydney suspected that Tyler hadn't really had much chance to meet his boss' fiancé before Jarod had headed for California. In that case, it was a logical deduction that his getting a chance to talk to the man who would be taking charge of an important research department as well as helping Miss Parker make major decisions regarding Centre policy would be something he'd wanted to do for a while. For his part, he expected that Jarod would be very impressed with the character and intelligence of the man Missy had chosen for her immediate assistant, seeing the possibilities of very successful and cooperative business dealings with the man for years to come.
Other guests had been similarly made at home. Margaret had been utterly charmed by Mei-Chiang and Xing-Li, and they with her. They, along with Miss Parker, had descended upon the kitchen and chattered and yakked their way through helping with the preparations of everything but the meat for the meal to come. The discussions that had accompanied the work had ranged over many topics – with Margaret talking about her family in California and Miss Parker remembering cookouts while her mother had been alive.
Kevin and Deb, knowing that there were more than enough people to give Sydney or Miss Parker any help they needed for the time being, took a much-needed walk together in the park. They had had very little chance in the last day or so to spend quality time without any threat of interruption, and Sydney had just waved them off when they told him where they were intending to go, reminding them of when the planned dinner hour would be so that they could be home in time to eat.
When the softball game that Davy had been hoping for didn't happen, he was easily convinced to take his little sister up into the tree house to play. Ginger had dutifully packed up her coloring supplies and Bear after shyly thanking Sydney for letting her stay in the den. Now relieved of babysitting duties, Sydney hadn't waited for Kevin to come back from the park before he'd gleefully freed himself from his 'damned gizmo.' He then went in search of the one person he knew was in his house that he hadn't had a chance to see yet and whom he wanted very much to give personal attention.
He found Crystal sitting politely at the kitchen table listening to the other women chattering avidly, too shy to do much more than nod when certain comments were aimed at the group in general rather than respond. She had stood and quietly come over to him when he'd appeared in the doorway to the den. "I was hoping I'd see you again," she said softly so as not to interrupt the flow of the others' conversation. "I wanted to thank you for extending the invitation to come today."
"I'm glad you accepted it," he told her with a smile, extending the arm not encumbered with the crutch in her direction. His smile grew just a little wider when she slipped under that extended arm and gave him a gentle hug. "I thought you'd enjoy not being alone for a change."
"I do," she assured him, warmed by the embrace and the consideration, "but I feel like I'm intruding on a family celebration."
"This IS a family celebration, Crystal," Sydney explained, pulling her along through the kitchen doorway and into the dining room where they could talk together with more privacy, "but you're not intruding at all. I think you'll find that the family that's gathered here today is a very unusual one, related more by ties of close friendship and shared experiences than by blood. Under those terms, you belong here as much as anybody else."
"You're serious!" she exclaimed in surprise.
"Is that so surprising?" he asked, leading her toward the dining table.
"I told you, I've been alone for a long time," she replied, having to work hard to keep from choking up. "Even with my own family, I was alone for the most part – mostly because I wished I didn't belong. I had a dad who beat up on me whenever he got tired of beating on my mom, and a mom who was too scared of what he was going to do to HER to worry much about what he might be doing to me."
"Was it always like that?"
She sat down heavily and dropped her head guiltily. "No, it just got that way gradually – and then got really bad about the time I started high school. I've never seen anybody who could backhand a person faster…" She sighed, then looked up at her fellow victim and now host and gestured around her. "I see this… camaraderie… and I wonder what it was that was wrong with me…"
"The fault wasn't yours, Crystal," Sydney soothed gently, easing himself into a nearby chair. "The fault lies with your abusive father."
Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be a part of a family that actually liked each other," she sighed. "Where there wasn't someone in the family that the rest were scared to death of." She gave him a very guilty look. "I think that's part of the reason that I gave Kevin such a bad time when he was trying to describe you to me and your relationship. I was so jealous of what he had…"
"You don't have to be jealous anymore," he said, reaching out for a hand. "I want you to consider yourself a member of my family. You're welcome here anytime."
"All of this because…"
"Because you deserve to have somebody give you a decent break at least once in your life," Sydney finished for her. "What you do with this break is, of course, your business – but…"
"Kevin's not going to like your including me in," she warned him. "I'm afraid I was rather nasty to him while I was on the streets."
"He'll get over it," Sydney smirked at her. "Besides, it was good for him to hear someone who was not a part of this world react less than enthusiastically to his life now. Kevin's not been… he was raised in a very sheltered environment all his life – it's taking him a while to acclimate to life here on the 'outside.'"
The look that Crystal gave him told him that he was probably going to have to tell her the rest of the story sooner or later – but not today. Today he was determined to enjoy himself. "And finally," he told her firmly, "it's my house, after all. I'm the person who will decide who is welcome here or not."
"Even if she's a street kid with a big mouth?"
"Absolutely," he told her without a moment's hesitation. "Besides, you seem to have behaved fine today as far as I can tell — and I'm sure I would have heard from Parker at least if you'd been sassing back to anybody." He watched with some concern as she blushed and then looked down at her hands. "If I'd thought that you'd cause trouble, I would have waited and spent more time with you with just us talking, rather than ask you to join in a family celebration. I suspected – and I was right – that given half a chance, you'd be an interesting person to get to know."
"I still don't understand why you're being so nice to me," she asked suddenly, looking up into his eyes with a sudden resurgence of distrust and defensiveness. "Honestly, I didn't do all that much…"
"On the contrary, you did enough to tell me, even though I was in lousy shape to see much, that your smart-ass, street-wise urchin act was just that — an act — and that you were a caring individual behind all those protective shields." His voice was soft, soothing, and she looked down again. "I do have one question for you, though."
"What's that?"
"After all that you'd been through at home, why on earth did you end up with that young man?" Crystal paled and almost visibly flinched, and Sydney put out a hand and claimed one of hers from her lap. "Sam told me some of what you told him — but I'd rather hear from you instead."
"If Sam told you what I told him, then you know it all," she replied defensively, although she clung to the hand that had claimed hers. "He picked me up off the streets where those others had dumped me and, for the most part, saw to it that I was safe from everyone else."
"Except him," he pressed gently. "He used you just as badly, I take it."
Crystal looked up at Sydney sharply. "That part of it happened mostly after Cricket got hurt," she told him with a shrug. "It was the price I paid for him keeping me safe. But before then, Cricket was his girlfriend — and she'd get really mad if he even looked in my direction. Otherwise, he'd only knock me around himself when I made a mistake that could cost us a flop or give us away to the cops." She looked back down again. "He never really hit me hard until I stood up for you that night."
"Why DID you stand up for me?" Sydney shot at her point-blank. "I mean, you'd probably seen him roll other drunks before, right?"
"Yeah," she admitted reluctantly.
"What was different that time?"
"He was being deliberately cruel," she replied finally, very softly. "He kept hitting and kicking you even after he found out you had no money, when it no longer served a useful purpose. Blue Cove is a small town — people here are more tightly knit and know each other better. I was afraid that if he kept on, he'd REALLY hurt you, and then we'd have the cops after us for sure. I stood up to him for the same reason he used to knock me around — because he was making a big mistake." She glanced up at him very guiltily. "So, to be honest, I was saving my own ass. I told you I didn't do much."
"And I told you that you did enough," he responded, squeezing her hand. "At least we're both safe from him now."
That earned him a look of raw gratitude. "Yeah, we are."
"And you have a place of your own that isn't some filthy mattress in a warehouse, and you're not eating out of restaurant garbage cans anymore."
"I just keep waiting to wake up in the warehouse."
"Uh-uhn. Not for as long as I have any say in the matter," he stated firmly. "I'd have brought you in here if I had more room. As it is, then, I'm having to content myself with including you in informal gatherings like this one today."
"I hope you didn't expect me to know all these people," she sighed, finding his attentiveness and concern for her still something that would take time to get used to and wanting to change the subject of discussion from herself to something far safer. "I mean, I only know you and Miss Parker and Sam and Mei and Kevin – I've met Kevin's girl the day I came for help…"
"Ah. That's Deb," Sydney smiled indulgently, and Crystal saw real affection in his expression for the other girl. "In real terms, she's the daughter of a very close friend of mine – but she's been like a granddaughter to me for years now."
"What about Kevin, is he really your nephew then?"
Sydney's chestnut eyes began to sparkle. "No, not really. Like you, he's alone in the world. I just… more or less adopted him… a while back."
Crystal's face began to slip into real confusion. "I thought you said that this was what you called a family celebration…"
"I also told you that this family wasn't necessarily related by blood," he reminded her, "and that you belonged as much as any of the others."
"I thought you were just trying to make me feel more at home," she admitted in chagrin.
"How about if I tell you all about the real relationships as well as the informal positions within this rather unusual family structure of ours?" he asked with a grin.
She nodded, eyes wide. "That might help. I don't want to step on any toes."
"Ah-HAH!" Sydney's eyes twinkled with mischief. "If you really were that smart-assed, street-smart brat, you wouldn't care if you stepped on toes at all. See? You just proved again that my assessment of you was right…"
"Sydney!" She looked at him with mild frustration at the pointed dig.
He smiled at her again reassuringly. "Just reinforcing the view that you do deserve your present condition, my dear. You seem so determined to convince yourself otherwise." She looked down again with a slight blush of embarrassment and residual discomfort at the constant flow of reassurance and confidence from him. Sydney decided to let her off the hook. "I tell you what — why don't you see if you can talk Parker out of a couple glasses of lemonade from the fridge, and I'll give you the low-down on everyone here. As much as I know, anyway, because some of these people even I don't know well..."
Crystal smiled at him, feeling him taking the pressure off. "OK." She rose and walked back toward the kitchen with what looked like a little more ease and confidence.
Sydney smiled to himself as he shook his head at the thought of trying to explain this family unit. Everything had begun when three co-workers who had nobody else but each other had begun to cling together for mutual support and affection. Over time, two others with no other real outside attachments had been added, and then the family had become very tight-knit. Now, it seemed, the family was adopting more strays with no other attachments to speak of every little while — Kevin, Mei-Chiang, Tyler, Xing-Li, and now a very self-conscious and intriguing young lady named Crystal.
Still, from the happy hum of voices around him, Sydney couldn't see how that was such a bad thing. After a lifetime with no family to speak of, to have a house as full as his was today was beyond priceless.
George Canfield had to struggle not to look guilty as he walked past the security guard to the Senate office building and headed for the elevator that would take him up to his third floor office. It had taken him this long to work up the courage to come in to the office to take care of the answering machine message that had resulted in his contact by the FBI and their enlistment of him in their efforts to gather damning evidence on his co-conspirators.
Luckily, the building seemed to be deserted. Canfield fumbled his keys as he unlocked the outer door, and then sighed and leaned back against the closed door behind him once he was inside. Running his fingers through his longish brown hair, he took three long and shaky breaths. He HAD to get a hold of himself, he told himself sternly, or he would give himself away when he met with Burns and Jackson tomorrow! He couldn't remember a time when he'd been more nervous and apprehensive about something — not even the pins and needles of an election night after a close race between himself and the incumbent Senator could come close to the real dread he was feeling right now.
Finally he forced himself to straighten and walk across the dimly lit outer office to his secretary's desk, and he plunked himself unceremoniously in her padded chair and reached for the answering machine button. The bright red digital display said that he — or his office — had four messages waiting. He pushed the play button and sank his chin into the palm of his hand while he listened through a lobbyist's spiel in regards to a bill that was currently in one of his committees, an invitation to speak at a Rotary Club meeting on his next trip back to his home state and a reminder from his party's whip to attend session on Monday to vote on an important piece of legislation. Then, when he heard the sound of his own voice start up, he roused himself and hit the delete button just as his tone of voice began to sound like begging — grateful that messages on THIS machine were stored digitally and could be deleted individually. Now all the incriminating evidence of his one-sided pleading with the FBI was gone — along with all the evidence of his own inner turmoil.
Feeling just a little more in control of the situation, Canfield rose and reached for the knob of the inner office door, pushing the door open and then walking slowly into his personal domain as a United States Senator. He looked around the office, noting as if for the first time the sturdy and simple elegance of the chairs and couch, as well as the ample working space of his desk. He sighed — he'd worked very long and very hard to win the right to occupy an office in this building in this town, only to squander it by his actions once he'd arrived.
How could he have ever possibly seen anything beneficial in sponsoring the development of chemicals and biological weapons that were considered taboo by the rest of the international community? Since when had he started buying into the concept that the ends justified the means? Had he just been bedazzled by the very idea of having a seat at the secret pinnacle of power — or were his personal ethics only useful when they served a personal agenda?
He moved to the window and peered down the street. In the distance, he could see the spire of the Washington Memorial piercing the sunset-painted sky like an alabaster needle. For the first time in a long time, he juxtaposed what he knew about the projects that the Centre had decided to shut down with what he knew about international law and simple common sense. How could he have ever possibly thought that violating so many federal and international laws could be in the common good? He didn't deserve the honor his constituents had given him, for he'd betrayed their trust.
Slowly he retreated from the window to sit down at his desk and stare at his hands on the blotter in front of him. They were hands that knew the honest labor of driving tractor and mending fences. Now they were manicured, white, hands that had seen little other than a computer keyboard or a fountain pen for months if not years. Canfield folded his hands and dropped them into his lap. He had to survive tomorrow — he had to let Agent Gillespie put whatever bit of micro-technology he wanted into a hidden corner of his suit and then attend the motorized meeting as if nothing had happened. He had to help Gillespie and Berghoff get the proof they needed.
After that…
He eyed the bottom right drawer of his desk without pulling it open. He knew what was inside. If tomorrow went as he hoped, and he heard from the FBI men that they had all they needed, then he'd be back here, in this office, after hours tomorrow.
And honor would be served at last.
Miss Parker shot an assessing look at Sydney from the front hallway and then bumped Jarod with her hip as he stood next to her and motioned with her nose for him to take a look as well. Jarod needed only a glance to see what she'd seen: Sydney's face was getting pale, even though the expression on his face was still congenial and interested and involved in the conversation going on around him. Neither of them was surprised, however. He had taken charge of Crystal the moment he'd gotten loose from his therapy machine and made it a point to be her companion all through dinner — and now sat with her and Margaret in the living room, the three of them chatting quietly.
Miss Parker's grey eyes caught Sam's, and a twitch of the nose directed his attention to the same place. The tall sweeper nodded slightly and then moved into the dining room to drop a possessive hand to his fiancée's shoulders as she and Xing-Li chattered happily with Deb at the dining table. Mei-Chiang looked up into her fiancé's face and smiled happily and expectantly as he bent to her ear.
The next person whose attention Miss Parker wanted to catch was Kevin's, but he wasn't in the room. She followed the sound of her son's favorite video game, but found Davy contentedly playing by himself while Ginger had curled up on her grandfather's couch and was now fast asleep with Bear clasped to her tightly. "Where's Kevin?" Miss Parker asked him quietly so as not to rouse her new daughter. "Do you know?"
"Talking with Mr. Tyler, the last time I saw him," Davy answered without taking his eyes from what he was doing.
"Where'd they go?"
"Out back, I think…"
Miss Parker backed into the kitchen again and gazed through the clear arcadia doorway into the nighttime back yard. Sure enough, Tyler and Kevin were outside in a pool of light from the kitchen, sitting facing each other and deep in very serious conversation. Deciding to listen before just barging in, Miss Parker walked to the kitchen table and paused.
"…so sorry," Kevin was saying. "I wanted to call you and talk to you, but it just seemed like things never cleared."
"Don't worry about it," Tyler said kindly. "I have to admit that I'm not all that surprised. I mean, you're HERE all the time — where Deb is — and I'm not."
"Yeah, but I did promise." Kevin sounded upset.
"I think the idea that you've got the guilts over this tells me that you gave it a good try under very difficult conditions," Tyler returned. "And, to be honest, I would have been very surprised if you'd managed to keep that promise, considering everything that's happened since then."
"You're not upset then?"
Tyler shook his head. "No, not really. You see, I've met someone else, and I think that I'm going to see if I can make a go of it with her instead."
"You mean Xing-Li?" Miss Parker smiled gently at the relief in Kevin's voice.
"Yup." Tyler let his Texas drawl stretch out. "So y'all don't need fret none, Kevin. Deb's a fine woman — I can see how much she cares about you. You're one lucky stiff."
"Stiff?" Miss Parker had to stifle the chuckle that welled up inside at the way that Kevin could sound so much like Jarod at times. She decided that the two had probably had the most important part of their discussion already, and that it was safe to interrupt them.
"Kevin? Where are Syd's pain pills? He's starting to look a little worn around the edges…" she asked as if just coming up to the arcadia doors.
Kevin looked up and into the darkened kitchen and then rose. "I have them in the back bathroom," he told her. "But do you honestly think he'll take one with all these people here?"
"What's wrong?" Tyler rose immediately at the sound of his hostess' voice.
"Oh, Sydney took an extra half day's vacation from his therapy machine," she explained as both young men came past her and back into the kitchen. "Now he's going to pay for it in stiffness and ache until morning, when he can get on the thing again."
"And the pain pills tend to put him out for the evening when he takes one," Kevin added, "which is why I seriously doubt that he'll be willing to take one until things quiet down."
Tyler looked at his wristwatch and found that it was already after eight. "I suppose I'd better be getting Xing-Li and Crystal home so that they'll be fresh for work in the morning. IF I can pry Crystal away from Sydney, that is. I think he's her security blanket, because she's stuck to his side like a saddle burr all afternoon."
Miss Parker nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised."
"I would be," Kevin commented. "I'm having problems getting used to her acting like a normal person — or even a bit shy. She sure didn't have any problems standing up to anybody before she and Sydney connected."
"I've seen it happen this way before," Tyler told him, "that lots of times teenagers will put on a prickly and unpleasant façade in order to hide the fact that they're desperately lonely or unhappy or something. It keeps them from being seen as vulnerable. Sydney saw through that, I think."
"I know he would have seen through it very easily," Miss Parker nodded. "He saw through me a long time ago — and there's no reason to assume that he isn't still as astute." She put her hand on the young Pretender's shoulder. "I think you'll have to get used to having Crystal around a bit more now, Kevin. Sydney's taken a liking to her."
"Wonderful." The sandy-haired young man sounded anything but thrilled by the prospect.
While Kevin headed for the back of the house and Sydney's bottle of pain medication, Tyler joined Sam and Jarod and Mei-Chiang and Xing-Li in order to quietly suggest to one of his passengers that perhaps they should be thinking about heading home. Miss Parker walked back toward the living room and quietly joined Sydney and Crystal. "Where'd Maggie go?" she asked the older man, looking around in vain for her.
"She went to check on Sprite," Sydney answered. "Nobody's seen her for a while."
"Sprite's fast asleep on your daybed," Miss Parker replied with a smile. "I think all the new people wore her out." She tipped her head and put a gentle hand on Sydney's shoulder. "And I think you've just about reached the end of your rope too, Syd. You've gone about four shades paler than normal. Your knee?"
"I'm fine…" he shook his head, dismissing the concern.
"She's right," Crystal told him frankly. "You look like you need to call it a day, and the rest of us need to let you get some rest."
"This has been such an interesting day, I hate to be the reason it has to end," Sydney grumbled, looking more at Miss Parker than Crystal.
"We'll have plenty of opportunities to do this again, Syd," Miss Parker reassured him, "not the least of which will be Sam and Mei's wedding in a couple of weeks. For now, though, let's not push your limits a lot further."
"Sydney, I think Mei and I are going to call it an evening," Sam announced from the doorway, then held up a restraining hand. "Don't get up, though. Thanks for a wonderful day."
"Oh yes!" Mei-Chiang stepped forward, her face glowing. "Thank you for inviting us into your house for the day."
"You're very welcome," Sydney smiled at Sam's pretty bride to be. "I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on."
Mei-Chiang blushed. "I'd like that."
"I think I'm going to be taking off myself," Tyler announced from behind Sam. "I have two pretty ladies to get back home so they can be all ready for a new day at work tomorrow."
"Thank you so much for having us," Xing-Li moved a step past Tyler so that she could see her host. "It was a great pleasure to meet you."
"That's my ride," Crystal told Sydney as she rose. "I'd better be going now. You need your rest."
Sydney caught at the girl's hand, and reached into his breast pocket for a piece of paper. "This is my home number here and my cell. Call anytime."
"Thank you," Crystal took the paper and pushed it carefully into one of her jeans pockets. Impulsively, she leaned over her host and gave him a tight hug. "For everything," she added in a soft voice meant only for his ear.
"Good night," Sydney smiled at her after releasing her from an answering hug. "Don't be a stranger."
Crystal saw Kevin come out of the back of the house and moved through the others so that she could talk to him more or less privately. "It was good to see you again," she said quietly. "I wonder if I could have a word with you — privately — before I go?"
Kevin's face folded into a slight frown, but he nodded and handed the pain pill over to Deb and let Crystal lead the way out the front door. "What's this about?" he demanded once there was a door giving them privacy.
"Look, I know that you're not very happy with my being here," Crystal began carefully, "and I can't really blame you for how you feel. I was being a real brat before. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings. Maybe someday you'll forgive me enough that we can try to be friends again."
Kevin blinked. "You know, this isn't the you I've come to know," he told her skeptically. "Until today, I haven't heard you say one nice or kind word about anybody else."
"Yeah, Kevin, this is me, the real me," she nodded. "The person you knew before — that was the lie."
"I don't know…" he shook his head, still disbelieving. "If it was a lie, it was a damned convincing one."
"Believe what you want," she responded finally, a hint of sad frustration in her voice. "But I am sorry. And because he's asked me, I'll probably be over to see Sydney every once in a while. So if we can't be friends, at least can we not be enemies, OK? I don't want to fight or argue with you anymore."
Kevin thought for a bit, then nodded. "OK – because Sydney would want it that way," he explained dryly.
"Fair enough." Crystal pushed past Kevin and opened the front door. "Bye, everyone," she called into the house as she caught Tyler's eye and indicated her readiness to leave.
Sam and Mei-Chiang followed Tyler and his passengers in calling out their own farewells and finally climbing into their respective cars. Jarod and Miss Parker stood in the open doorway behind Kevin, waving until Sam's car had pulled away from the curb. Miss Parker went in search of Deb once the door was once more closed behind them. "C'mon, let's get that kitchen cleaned up again."
"I gave him that pill," Deb told Jarod as she prepared to follow Miss Parker into the kitchen. "If it works like last time, you'll need to think about moving Ginger out of the way…"
"Already done." Margaret's voice sounded from the kitchen, through which she was carrying a little girl who had hardly roused when her grandmother had picked her up. "I thought I'd take her into the living room and put her down on the couch there." She carried the child in and deposited her on the opposite end of the couch on which Sydney was still sitting.
"Here," he offered, pulling the crocheted afghan from the back of the couch down and unfolding it before handing it to Margaret to tuck around her little granddaughter's shoulders. "It looks like she's down for the count," he commented quietly.
"And the couch in the den is all yours again," Margaret answered. "Do you need a hand getting off this thing? It looks like a man-eater…"
"No, no, I'm fine," Sydney protested, reaching for the crutch that he'd placed within easy reach and scooting to the edge of the cushion. "It just takes me a few tries…"
The second time he tried to get himself erect, Margaret reached down and grabbed an elbow and gave him just the extra bit of help he needed to succeed. "Why is it that men are so damned stubborn when they need a hand," she grumbled to herself, her mind on a memory of Charles in much the same state after his first heart attack a year earlier.
"Because we don't like being out of control," Sydney answered her quite honestly, earning for himself a blink of surprise in response. He put the crutch under his armpit and leaned heavily on it. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiled back. Despite everything, she was growing to genuinely like this cultured gentleman who seemed to be the patriarch around which a very eclectic and flexible family unit had formed. "Are you going to be able to make it back there OK?"
"I'll be fine, Maggie," he assured her. "I'm not entirely without mobility." He nodded in her direction and began to slowly make his way toward the back of the house. Maggie Russell was still very much an enigma to him, a very uncomfortable one – for she reminded him that he'd been part of the system that had stolen her child, and her son's childhood. How, in the face of all of that, could she still treat him with equanimity?
Carroll Hitchens read through the copy of the introductory article that Lawler had sent to his terminal, his nod growing more and more evident. Lawler had been very cautious, as ordered, but had included enough of the astounding and outrageous that he evidently felt incontrovertibly supported by whatever proof he'd received from his unnamed informant to surely titillate the imagination of the reading public.
With a few clicks of the mouse, he had given the short article his official stamp of approval and sent it down to be inserted into the morning edition of the paper. Now it was just a question of waiting to see if the little article would raise as much public interest and curiosity as he expected it would. But just to be on the safe side, he sent a firmly worded directive to Lawler to provide copies of all the evidence that supported the allegations that he'd made in this exploratory article down to the legal department, along with a copy of the article that was being printed. There was no use in not being prepared for whatever reaction the late morning or early afternoon would bring – especially after this Miss Parker had a chance to read the article for herself.
Finished for the day at last, he logged off the network and shut down his terminal. It had been a long day for a Sunday – and tomorrow promised to be quite 'interesting' in the Chinese curse sense of the word. He'd been essentially waiting around until Lawler handed in his copy before calling it a day. The next morning's edition had been put to bed – his job for the day was through. It was now up to the men in the pressroom and the distribution department to get the paper on the streets and into the hands of the thousands of readers who would be expecting the paper on their doorsteps and at the newsstands bright and early in the morning.
"Get up, soldier! On your feet!"
Stiller jumped at the barked order, leaping from the thin mattress to land on his stocking feet at full attention and facing the bars of his cell. On the other side, one of the Blue Cove Police was fumbling with the keys to the cell while Colonel Fox looked on in wry disgust. "I'm being transferred?"
Fox drew himself up stiffly. "Colonel Daniel Stiller, by the order of the United States government, you are being removed to the stockade in Baltimore pending a court marshal. Once all military charges have been leveled and sentence passed, you will be remanded back into the civilian courts to stand trial for your crimes. Your personal effects that were taken into custody with you are being collected and will be shipped to Baltimore separately."
The police officer entered the cell with stainless steel hand and leg chains, which he first fastened around Stiller's waist and then one by one attached the cuffs to hold the wrists tightly to the waist and limit the size of step that he could take.
"I protest the use of chains, sir," Stiller stated formally.
"Protest to your heart's content, Colonel," Fox said with no small measure of satisfaction. "You are charged with a crime of violence; and that being the case, you will wear restraints when not being housed in a locked cell in a secured facility." He gestured to the police officer. "Let's get him out of here."
With that, Stiller felt the officer take a very firm hold of his arm and begin to drag him forward, out the open barred door to his cell and down the cellblock to the back access door. There, while Fox took charge of holding tightly to Stiller's other arm, the officer pressed a buzzer for the door to be remotely opened. Immediately beyond the door was the open sliding door of a van. The officer helped Stiller navigate the step up into the vehicle and then used yet another cuff to lock him down into the nearest seat.
"He's all yours, Colonel," Donaldson announced in a big voice, thoroughly happy to have the sullen military man out of his jail.
"Thank you, officer. Please extend my regards to your Chief. I'll be in touch with him as Colonel Stiller's military case is settled." Fox told the man as he reached for the front passenger door. He slipped into the vehicle and nodded at the Corporal at the wheel. "Let's go," he ordered.
Obediently, the Corporal started the engine and put the van in gear. It would be a quiet drive to Baltimore.
"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Tyler," Crystal said as she slipped out of the back seat of the little convertible. It was a good thing she had no intention of letting anybody at work know with whom she'd spent the day — she seriously doubted that she would be believed. Not only had she spent the afternoon and evening with the Chairman herself, but with the Assistant Chairman and Chief of Security!
"Not a problem, kid." Tyler had to smile. Crystal was a sweet girl — certainly she had a defensive shyness about her that she wore like a shield. She was polite, but had only truly warmed up to Sydney over the course of the day. "I'll see you around, then."
"Yes, sir." Crystal's eyes danced just a little, remembering her talk with Xing-Li the other night about this Mr. Tyler's penchant for wanting to set aside formalities when outside of the Centre.
"We know where she got that one from, don't we," Tyler smiled at Xing-Li as Crystal laughed and then scampered up the stairs, her key flashing in the headlights of the sports car. "At least I have YOU calling me Cody once in a while now."
"You don't expect that Crystal and I don't talk after work, do you?" Xing-Li chuckled as Tyler came around the front of the car to open the door for her and extended his hand down to help her rise from her seat. "She was asking plenty of questions yesterday. Especially after she got the invitation for the celebration today and wasn't sure she should come."
"I don't put anything past you anymore," Tyler stated frankly as he tucked Xing-Li's hand into his arm so that he could escort her to her door. "I'm finding that you are a very resourceful woman – both as a secretary and as a friend."
Xing-Li smiled and enjoyed the saunter to her front door. Tyler had been a very attentive escort after his time with Jarod and Sam had concluded outside and everyone had gathered at the huge dining table to eat. "I do my best, sir," she quipped at him.
He pulled her to a halt beneath the front landing and turned her to face him in the light of the nightlight that illumined the quartet of thresholds. "We're still not on the clock," he reminded her with a smile. "What's my name?"
"Cody, sir," she replied obediently, her smile just a little wider.
"Not only resourceful, but extremely stubborn," he retorted, his own smile widening as he gave a very gentle tug on her hand that drew her closer to him.
"That's what I've been told, sir," she tipped her head up so that she could watch his face as she played with him ever so gently. Both of the other times that she'd spent time with him outside work, he'd been very diligent not to seem as if he were invading her personal space. He'd not tried to take from her anything that wasn't offered already. But tonight, it seemed, he was ready to change the rules a little. She didn't fight to free her fingers from his.
"Say my name," he spoke softly, beginning to bend down to her.
"Cody," she managed to pronounce before his lips were pressed gently against hers for the space of a heartbeat. It was a sweet and unpresuming kiss, the like of which she'd not expected.
And then he was straightening up to look into her glowing, dark eyes with a smoldering gaze. "Am I going to have to make you practice until you have it right?" he asked with a voice that had lowered to a tone that took her breath away.
The very idea of getting a repeat kiss like that was far too great a temptation to resist. "I don't know, sir," she replied in a voice equally low and rich, "it could be."
He bent again and captured her lips with his, this time letting a little more excitement fuel the exchange. The hand that wasn't still held prisoner at her side came up and pressed softly against his chest as the kiss lasted a little longer. His other hand came up to trace the line of her chin as they parted again, although neither drew very far away. "Say it," he demanded in a voice that made her heart begin to beat faster.
"Cody," she pronounced immediately, and then closed her eyes as his lips once more descended on hers – and this time neither bothered to hide the very beginnings of a real passion. His arms moved to encircle her and pull her to him while her hand slipped up to his shoulder and then around his neck.
Xing-Li knew it was madness to enjoy as much as she did the touch of a man who was her superior at work – but the time they'd spent together in an informal setting had worked its magic. This was a man who knew how to thrill and yet knew how to not press his advantage. His arms were warm around her, and she felt safe.
When Tyler finally broke the kiss, it was to kiss her forehead and then the top of her head while enjoying the feeling of her soft and warm in his arms. "I'll see you in the morning," he promised, "and the next time we're out after hours, we'll see if you still need the practice."
She made no attempt to escape his hold. "I think I could learn to appreciate your lessons," she said quietly, hoping he could catch her subtext.
"If there's one thing a teacher appreciates, it's a willing student," he returned and kissed her yet again with feeling. Her other hand was freed in order to allow its former captor to move up to settle softly at her waist – and it slipped easily around his waist to hold him back. When the kiss ended, he held her very close for a long moment before letting his hands drop away. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Cody," she answered, fishing in her purse for her key and finally inserting it in the lock to open the door. "See you in the morning." She smiled as she saw him lift his hand and wiggle his fingers at her as she stepped backwards into the darkness of the apartment. Then the door was closed, and she had the light on inside her apartment.
Tyler swung his arms at his side for a moment, pleased at the progress he'd made in the last few minutes and feeling the emptiness of not having her there with him any longer, and then turned back to his car. In that very moment, he decided that he'd find a way to be able to spend more time with her outside of work as soon as it was reasonably feasible.
"And what if you actually are pregnant?" Parker asked Deb gently as she handed the girl the large kettle in which she'd cooked the pot of chili beans for the supper.
Deb shrugged in deceptive nonchalance and took the metal vessel from her. "If I'm pregnant, then I guess we get married sooner rather than later," she said in as strong a voice as she could manage.
"Is that what both of you want?"
Deb found the expression in the older woman's grey eyes to be understanding and sympathetic, and it helped relieve some of her nervousness at such a frank discussion. "We want to get married eventually," she said in a slightly less defensive tone. "That much we're sure of."
"Have you talked about this with Kevin since yesterday?" Miss Parker pressed carefully. "Are you certain that Kevin would want to keep the baby?"
"Oh yeah," Deb nodded, more than certain of that point. That had been the sole topic of discussion during their long walk in the park. Kevin had been shocked at her even mentioning the prospect of not having the baby or giving the child away for adoption after it was born. "And, to be honest, it would be part of US, you know?"
Parker nodded as she scoured the pan that had held the mountain of barbeque meat being kept warm in the oven. "Oh yeah," she repeated Deb's own words. After all, there was no way that she would want to lose Jarod's child if she turned up pregnant in the near future either. "What about your dad – how much of this does he know?"
Deb blushed and then went slightly pale at the thought of her father. "I told him that Kevin and I were in love," she replied slowly, "but I didn't tell him… the rest of it."
"Why?" Miss Parker's hands stilled in their work as she turned to look at her old friend's daughter who had in so many ways been like her own.
"I thought I'd wait until I knew if I'm pregnant or not," Deb told her hesitantly. "I figure that if I have to upset him, I'd rather have one great big upset rather than two big ones."
"That would certainly be easier on the two of you." Miss Parker could see some wisdom to her reticence. "So… tomorrow's the day, eh?"
"Yeah," Deb smiled at last. "I'll drive Grandpa into Dover and drop him and Kevin off at the hospital for his therapy session while I go on to the college health department. I have to work at the library tomorrow afternoon."
"And if you're pregnant – are you going to want some moral support when you go talk to your dad?"
Deb blinked and stared. "Are you saying that you'd go in with me?" she breathed, barely able to hope that she wouldn't have to handle the task alone. "Really?"
"If you want me there," Miss Parker told her gently, "then I'll be there. I can't promise that my being there will cut much mustard with your dad – he's going to be pissed with you no matter which way it goes, you know…"
"I know."
"And he's going to be pissed with ME for letting it happen…"
"Neither you nor Grandpa LET anything happen," Deb countered sharply. "What happened is MY responsibility – and Kevin's. If Daddy's going to get mad at anybody, I want him to get mad at me."
Kevin looked at Jarod as he heard Deb's exclamation through the kitchen door. "How mad IS Deb's dad going to get with her — OR me?"
"Broots is very protective of Deb, Kevin," Jarod hedged. "He's probably going to be plenty steamed – especially when he figures out that he was deliberately kept out of the loop for a length of time. If she's pregnant on top of everything else, he may well blow a gasket for a while."
"He wouldn't…" Kevin's voice faltered as he tried to speak the unacceptable.
"Wouldn't what?"
"Forbid her to see me anymore, would he?"
Jarod shook his head. "I doubt that anything anybody says will do much good to keep you two apart if you really want to be together," he said, lifting the final leaf from the dining table and leaning it gently against the wall so that the table could be returned to its more intimate size. "And considering that Deb seems to feel that her happiness is dependent upon your being together from now on, I seriously doubt that Broots will do much more than scold and complain very loudly and very vehemently before finally giving in to the inevitable. After all, nothing Mr. Parker ever did or said to Miss Parker ended up doing any good where it came to the two of us – and he really did try to sever our relationship. For what it's worth, I see a lot of us in you two."
Kevin tipped his head. "What do you mean?"
Jarod handed two of the trio of wooden table leaves to Kevin, then led the way to the hutch and pulled the narrow door open so that they could be stored away again. "Well, Missy was the first girl I ever met – Deb was the first girl you ever met. Once Missy and I connected, even though we worked at cross-purposes for a while, that was IT. I knew that she was the one for me. It may have taken her a while to sort through what her father had done to her, but eventually she figured it out to. When I came back at the beginning of the summer, it didn't take long for things to click back into place — and for me to realize that I'd never really wanted to be with anybody else. She was the one I wanted."
"That's how I've felt about Deb too," Kevin nodded, handing over the last of the leaves.
"That seems to be the way it works for us Pretenders," Jarod commented, closing the door.
"And Miss Parker's a Pretender too, isn't she?" Kevin asked pointedly.
Jarod gave Kevin a sharp glance. "Yes," he admitted slowly. "She is."
"Then you two were twice as destined."
"You're probably right," Jarod admitted after thinking about it for a bit. "Even staying completely away from her for years didn't make either of us feel any differently."
"I want that with Deb," Kevin said firmly.
Jarod put his arm around the younger Pretender's shoulders. "Something tells me that you already have it," he reassured him with a smile. "Now all you need to find out is whether you're going to be a father or not right off the bat…."
Kevin withered beneath the arm. "I know…"
"You can take a birdie-bath tonight," Miss Parker directed her son as the family began to stream through the back door of the elegant townhouse. "It's late, and you have school in the morning."
"I think I'm going to call it a night, if you don't mind," Margaret told them with a yawn. "This was a big day."
"Things will be a little more quiet from now on, Mom," Jarod said with a sideways smile, bending carefully to deposit a kiss on his mother's cheek without waking his sleeping daughter. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Good night, Maggie," Miss Parker echoed, patiently waiting her turn to give her future mother-in-law a quick peck on the cheek. "Sleep well."
"G'nite, Grandma." Davy trotted on ahead of everybody else toward the stairs and his bedroom to retrieve his pajamas.
"I'll put Sprite down," Jarod told Miss Parker, a hand at his little girl's head on his shoulder. "She's out like a light — there's no use trying to wake her for a bath."
"I can give her a bath in the morning before she gets dressed if you want," Margaret tossed back over her shoulder from deeper into the house.
"I'll meet you upstairs," Miss Parker told him quietly. "I have all this food to put away…"
Jarod nodded. "I'll see you up there." On his shoulder, Ginger sighed softly and stretched her one arm around her father's neck while pulling Bear tighter to her with the other. Jarod carried her through the darkened house and up the stairs behind his mother, turning and walking the few steps to the bedroom door and opening it.
"She did well today," Margaret whispered at him from in front of the door of the guestroom that was hers, "even with all the new people."
"Except with poor Sam, though," Jarod replied. "We'll have to work at getting her less frightened of him somehow."
"That will be quite the accomplishment," Margaret shook her head skeptically. "Goodnight," she whispered and disappeared through her door.
"Goodnight, Mom," he replied as he moved through the open doorway and paused for the moment it took his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness so that he could see his way to the side of the bed. His one arm dropped, depositing the backpack with all of her travelling toys and supplies on the floor so that he had a hand with which to reach out and turn on the clown nightlight. Then he pulled back the bedspread and covers and carefully laid her down into her pillow, making short work of removing her shoes and her favorite "buffa-fies" before pulling sheets and blankets over the little form and tucking her in.
"G'nite, Sprite," he said very quietly, bending over her to drop a kiss on her forehead and then rising to his feet. He looked around the room, seeing the shadows of the furniture that surrounded her — including a huge dollhouse that sat quietly in a corner. Missy had spent time in the attic of this old place, he realized, trying to bring out the best of what had been her childhood to share with her new daughter.
He shook his head. Just a few months ago, he would never have expected such sentimentality or willingness to dig through her past to excavate the good memories from the detritus of the bad without at least a great deal of prodding and encouragement. But now…
He heard her tucking Davy into bed with a soft voice as he walked toward their bedroom and turned on the light. It was the second night in his new home, and it still hadn't entirely sunk in that he was really here, that she was really his at last. He moved to his side of the bed, peeling off his tee shirt as he went.
"Davy wants to take Ginger to school with him and show her off SO badly," Miss Parker chuckled softly as she pushed the door closed and moved to her side of the bed.
"I think I'm going to see if she'll let Sydney work with her a bit — some one-on-one tutoring will do her good, I think." He tossed his clothing into the hamper after pulling on pajama bottoms and then pulled the covers back. "The sooner we can get her to the point that she can begin to function with other kids her age, the better."
"That's fine with me," Miss Parker said, drawing the baby blue nightgown over her head and taking aim with her own garments at the hamper on the other side of the room. "I'd just as soon he stay away from the archives for a while anyway, if you want to know the truth. Kevin can handle that end of things." She pulled her covers back and slipped between the sheets to join him after turning on her bedside lamp and turning off the overhead.
"Kevin's very capable," Jarod agreed, joining her between the sheets. "And for tomorrow at least, he can use that reading assignment to keep himself occupied mentally until Deb gets home from Dover."
She turned off the bedside lamp and moved to the center of the mattress where she snuggled down comfortable into Jarod's arms. "So… are you going into work with me tomorrow?" she asked in a low voice.
"Not yet," He replied, his hands smoothing across the silky skin of her shoulder. "I need to spend more time with Sydney yet — and maybe smooth the way for him to work with Sprite before he has to take off for his physical therapy. I'll be in Tuesday or the next day — whenever you have your next department heads' meeting — for a little while, at least."
"I need a functional head of Psychogenics…"
"You'll have one — but let Sydney bring me up to speed a little first," he replied, turning toward her and reaching for her with both hands now. "Tell you what: we'll start talking shop in the morning. I have something far more interesting on my mind right now…"
"Oh really?" she asked, closing her eyes in enjoyment of the soft caresses he was making, and appreciating the gentle way he'd already moved the thin strap of her nightgown off her shoulder. "I can't imagine what that might be…"
"Allow me to demonstrate then…" he purred in a low and seductive tone and then brought his lips to meet hers in a kiss that grew quickly and steadily in passion.
The white truck rolled up to the loading dock and stopped. The driver heaved himself from his seat with a sigh — he had nearly a hundred miles yet to drive, and some thirty stops to make before his "day" was through.
"About time," growled one of the loaders who had been standing and waiting on the dock for more than fifteen minutes for this last truck to arrive. "You're later than usual tonight."
"Don't blame me," the driver snarled back with a emphysema cough. "The damned ignition on this bucket has been going out for weeks — but do you think the stupid mechanics can find anything wrong when I report it? NOOoooo…"
"I don't give a shit about your ignition, Fred," the loader growled again, pushing himself away from the outer wall of the printing plant and pushing a button that sounded a horn within. "I just want to get this load outta here so I can get off work ALMOST on time, for a change."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Fred the driver hissed softly to himself as he unlocked the doors at the back of his trailer and threw them open. "Here you go, then," he announced for others to hear, then stood aside for the forklift to begin loading the pallets of papers. As was his habit while he was stuck standing around and waiting for others to do their work, he wandered over to one of the pallets and gazed down at the top half of the front page in curiosity. His eyes widened, and he quickly decided that he'd pick up a copy of the morning edition when he'd finished his run.
Across the very top of the front page was a banner giving hints to things buried within, and one of them had definitely caught his eye. There was a picture of the pretty babe who was the Chairman of that place in Delaware that had blown up a while back, but the bold print next to it said: "What is she hiding?"
THAT ought to make for good reading, Fred thought to himself as the forklift made its final exit from the back of his trailer and he could close it up and lock it for the nightly delivery run. Maybe even good enough to warrant a coffee and bagel.
Feedback, please: