Present Day – Annandale, VA
"Oh my God, Nancy, that sounds horrible. How did you ever get over being held hostage like that!"
Nancy rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law, Kim, and shrugged in what she hoped was a careless way. "I wasn't held hostage. The guy was high on something. We startled him robbing our apartment and he went crazy." She took a swig from the beer bottle she was holding, slick with condensation from the muggy, summer evening. Only the large shady tree over her back deck and a breeze made it tolerable to sit outside at all.
Kim was younger and blonde and a bit more solid than Nancy. She hadn't found a topic she wasn't comfortable with, so far, in Nancy's presence. But despite the woman's chatty candor, Nancy liked her brother, Andy's, wife. They'd become quite good friends in their years of family reunions and annual visits to the D.C. area. She was sharp as a tack, and generally directed her curiosity to the good.
"But the going crazy part! He had a gun! If your ex hadn't been an Air Force kung fu guy…" she trailed off, her eyes still wide.
"John probably saved our lives that night," Nancy agreed softly.
"How did you ever sleep again in that place?"
"I never did. John took me to a hotel the first night, and we stayed at guest housing on base for a week until his father could set us up in a townhouse by the university where I was finishing my masters."
"Your ex's father put you up in a townhouse…just like that? Why were you living in a seedy apartment in the first place?"
Nancy felt a tickle of annoyance that she quickly squashed. Kim didn't know any better and things had been…complicated back then. "John didn't want to live off his father's money. He wanted to support himself. We wanted to support ourselves," she added the last hastily. Kim made a rude noise.
"Shit, forget that. I'd take a free room any day."
"I did love that townhouse. It was beautiful and safe. I could walk to classes. John hated every second of living there, though. It represented loss of independence to him. He hated having to ask his father for anything. He only did then because of me. He swallowed his pride for me and that made me love the place even more. John's father let me stay in the townhouse for years, even after we separated."
She fell quiet, thinking about that time in her life for the first time in a while. It had been months since Patrick Sheppard's funeral. She hadn't seen John since. When she did think about him, she only started to worry and made herself stop. Kim was studying her with that look that said she'd be asking another question soon, as soon as she figured out how to go about it. Nancy almost grinned. She could guess the question.
"So, tell me about your Air Force guy." Nancy shot a nervous look at the house and Kim just leaned closer and waved the concern away, "Andy's keeping Grant busy in the kitchen. I've always wanted to ask you why you broke up. Andy showed me a couple of pictures of John from back then. He was such a cutie. And damn, that uniform! I wouldn't kick that out of bed for eating crackers if you know what I mean!"
"It was the uniform I couldn't compete with."
"Oh. Macho man? Misogynist tough guy?"
"No! Oh, God no! John was, is, a great guy. He just had a higher calling. He wanted the adventure, excitement and a chance to save the world. I wanted to have dinner at home with my husband once and a while."
Kim was looking at her with an amused glare. "There has to be more to it than that. I like Grant and all, but seriously…" Kim waggled her eyebrows and Nancy laughed.
"There was more to it." She fell thoughtful for a moment. "Things were never the same after that night, honestly. I remember…John had been wrestling with something at work – I never found out what – and after that night it was like he'd made peace with what had been bothering him, but, he wasn't quite the same man. He'd always had a temper, got in trouble with his command about it all the time, too. Afterwards, he wasn't nearly as hotheaded. He wouldn't argue anymore. When we got in a fight, he'd bottle it up and walk away."
"That doesn't sound entirely bad?"
"No, not exactly. I think what I came to hate was how little of his life he would or could share with me. He was gone all the time on secret missions he couldn't talk about. I learned that he was a very repressed man, he never shared his feelings or fears and worries. Once he bottled up his temper, he never let anything out, ever. He…never let me help him. Eventually I felt more like a roommate than a wife and I had to leave."
"It got that bad?"
Nancy looked away. She couldn't meet Kim's curious eagerness. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I still loved him. Hell, our whole problem was that I wanted more of him than he could give me. But he wouldn't leave or alter his career and I couldn't live like that. We were both getting more and more resentful every day. I had to leave before we were both so broken that neither of us would have been able to put the pieces back together."
"That's the saddest story I've ever heard!"
"Well, don't feel sorry for us. Grant's wonderful and wonderful to me. I'm very happy with my career and life right now."
"And John?"
Nancy stared at her beer bottle for a long time. "I hurt him, I know that." She took a long swig, finishing up the last of the drink. She swallowed hard. "He's still got his adventure."
Andy and Grant chose that moment to clatter out of the house to present the girls with fancy, frozen mixed drinks. Nancy soon shook off the odd melancholy that had taken hold of her as she talked and joked with her brother, but she caught Kim shooting her thoughtful looks for the rest of the evening.
That night as she drifted to sleep next to Grant, she wondered, for the first time in a really long time, about the mission that had scared John the same week they'd been robbed. Telling the story to Kim had resurfaced some of the frustration of realizing that she would never be a part of that side of John's life. With the softening of time, she remembered more the fear in his eyes. It was fear he'd conquered, mostly. She wondered if he'd told her – been able to tell her – about it, if things would have been different. She wondered if she would have been able to find more sympathy and patience within herself if she'd known more about what he'd been afraid of, then and other times.
But he hadn't. And she didn't know. And now, she never would.
