"So, you finally crawled back to me." Harrison Dalton teased her.
"It's not like that." She told him. "Things have been weird and I've got midterms."
"Ah, school! I've got a vague memory of that."
She rose from the bed, reaching for her shirt. "You should go back."
"Yeah, right?"
"I'm serious." She said buttoning her shirt. "You are smart. And it would give you something to do. I mean, what do you want to do?"
"With my life?" He rubbed his face with his hand. "Geez, you sound like my parents. I just wanna hang out with you, for like, forever." He reached out for her hand.
"Harrison," She began. "I don't know if . . ."
He laughed out loud, and said, "Your face!" He pulled his hand back. "Jesus, Gingy, you are such a sucker. I know this is just for kicks."
"You gave me a heart attack! My mom was saying some crap about . . . Never mind."
"You got to love having your every move analyzed by the analysts! Don't they know they just trained their offspring to have made duplicitous skills!" He shook his head, reaching for a cigarette. "Your Mom is spooky good, though. I'm glad I'm not living in your house!"
"I'm not living there." She said sliding on her shoes.
"They kick you out? Whoa! When did that happen? Team McCord crumbles?"
"About two weeks ago. It was just . . . I'm twenty-one for God's sake! And that house is a fishbowl! You know how it is!"
"Hell, yeah. Where you staying? You can stay here, if you want?" He flicked his cigarette over an ash tray.
"Sure. The press would swarm this place in twenty seconds!" She shuddered at the thought. "I'm staying with friends. I'll figure it out."
"Anything to keep me at arm's length."
"It's not like that." She explained. "I just need some place low profile."
"Better learn to deal, though Gingy. It's not going away and the draw of losing yourself inside a bottle or pill can be too damn strong." He winked at her. "Trust me."
"I've got it under control." She responded sharply.
"Sure. You're sleeping with me and living out of a suitcase while you run from your Mom's shadow. Seems stable to me."
"You're sober forty days and you're the paragon of wisdom! Leave it alone!" She grabbed her coat and bag and crossed the room.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Harrison leapt out of bed, reaching out and taking hold of her arm. "I was only teasing! You don't ever have to explain or defend it to me, Stevie. We're CIA brats - who grew up to find out everything we were told was a cover story and a lie. There's no chance in hell for any of us to turn out straight."
She paused her chin down, saying nothing. After a long slow minute, she turned kissing his cheek. "Go get ready." She told him. "You don't want to be late for your meeting."
"See you, when I see you, brat!" He grinned at her.
"If you're lucky." She grinned.
***MS***
Henry McCord puttered around the house aimlessly. The kids often teased him about his pathetic listlessness when his wife was out of town. He had a stack of midterms to grade but had grown weary of reading the same five paragraph essay over and over and over. He went upstairs and hovered in Alison's doorway.
"Hey, Noodle. How's studying going?"
She looked up from her notebook. "Fine." She paused studying his face. "You are pathetic, Dad. Seriously."
"What?"
"She's been gone two days! I thought you were a tough guy; a Marine!"
"You know everyone in this family throws that in my face when it suits them, but when I point that out to your dates, you act like it was a hundred years ago."
"You completely terrified Josh, Dad. It wasn't fair."
"Well, good, and I thought we decided he was an idiot."
She shrugged. "We're friends, I guess. We went out for a year. He was just a jerk about ending it." She turned back to her work but he stayed where he was, watching her.
"Dad, come on." She told him, rising from her bed when she realized he was still there. "You can do this! She'll be back tomorrow night! Get it together!" She stood in front of him, and reaching for his hand turned him around so he faced the hallway.
"Okay." He said with a sigh. "But I was thinking maybe a drive would cheer me up." He dangled the car keys in front of her. "Of course, I'm much too sad to drive myself so . . ."
"Yes!" She jumped up with glee, reaching for the keys.
Henry smiled at her. "Get your brother. I'll meet you downstairs." He turned to go. "Leave the phone!"
She rolled her eyes at his rock-solid driving rule: No phones - EVER. He saw her expression, and added, "You wanna drive or not?"
"Okay! Okay!" She relented. "I'll get Jason."
***MS***
Jason McCord strapped the bottom of his bike helmet into place and said to his sister, "Okay, I'm ready."
She glared at him in the rear view mirror. "Take that off!"
"No way! I want to live!"
"Dad!" She moaned. "He's being ridiculous!"
"I agree, but he's your brother and annoying you is kind of his job."
"Yeah!" Jason said. "And I'm not taking any chances! Alison, you once walked straight into a wall while you were talking! Who knows what could happen in a car!"
"You are such a jerk." She said shaking her head at him.
"I really am." He agreed. "But at least I am a safe jerk." He tapped the top of his helmet for emphasis.
Henry sighed loudly. "Alright, you two. Enough. C'mon Noodle, check your mirrors and get everything set first."
She adjusted her seat and the mirrors. She then reached over adjusting the radio.
"No, go back one!" Jason complained. "I'm not listening to Taylor Swift all day!"
"You can't hear anything in that helmet anyway!" She told him.
Driving in DC traffic was no joke, and so he kept Alison on the outskirts of town, directing her away from the city, rather than towards it. It was still a four lane highway. He had found some of Elizabeth's meditation practices particularly helpful when Ali was behind the wheel. Alison was a practical and intelligent sixteen year old, but she was still sixteen - prone to distraction and panic.
"You are doing great, honey." He said encouragingly. She had, in fact, become a better driver over time, and so he relaxed, listening to the insipid music that blasted from the radio.
"Yeah, good job, Ali. You haven't smashed into anything, yet." Jason taunted from the backseat.
"You know, someday, you are going to want to drive, pal." Henry told him. "And it's stuff like this that's gonna make me want to put it off. Leave her alone and let her focus."
Jason shook his head, and Henry tried to keep himself from hitting the imaginary gas and break on the passenger side, as traffic bogged down. He turned his mind back to the music, in hopes to distract himself from the eight million dangers that surrounded his daughter. It was hard to just let go and trust her to drive - all he could think about was all the people in traffic around her. Were any of them drunk, or high, or deranged? He longed for the days when he could put his children inside a playpen; safe and protected.
He reached out to change the music, unable to stomach the teenage declarations of love and angst.
"Hey, I drive. I pick." Alison said, repeating his favorite rule.
"Honey, are you even listening to the words." He said to her. "These songs portray men so disrespectfully. That last song implied that men only like women who toy with their emotions and this one is implying that all men are chauvinistic womanizers. I'm sick of the media only showing one type of man."
"Alright, alright." She said to him.
"I wanted to catch the news anyway."
"Oh, Lord!" Jason said. "You're just going to listen to propaganda! If you really want to hear what is going on in the world, the news is the last place you should look!"
Alison cruised through traffic, cheerfully, and for a moment Henry was able to truly relax. The sun was just setting, and he knew that although, she wouldn't actually be home for another eighteen hours, Elizabeth was already on her way back to him.
". . . in other news, a plane carrying Secretary of State McCord was forced to make an emergency landing . . ."
The car swerved into the next lane of traffic, as Alison threw her hands up in shock.
"Honey, pay attention." Henry m said grabbing the wheel, and guiding the car back in the lane.
"Dad! Dad!" She said, looking at him wide, frightened eyes.
"You are driving. I heard it, sweetheart. We need to pull over." His heart was hammering in his chest and he fumbled for his phone, still keeping one hand on the wheel. "Alison!" He snapped. "Focus on the car."
Her face was white. "Okay," She said her hands on the wheel. She made her way across two lanes of traffic.
"That's it, Noodle." He said, as he passed his phone back to Jason. "Try and call her J."
"I got it."
"Now, there's an exit. Take that one." He pointed. She eased the car off the crowded highway, and pulled over to the side of the road. She covered her face with her hands, but forgot to put the car in park, and it continued forward.
"Put it in park, baby." He told her, reaching across. The car shuddered to an abrupt stop as he threw it in park at about the same time it hit a stop sign. The sign leaned forward at a crazy angle, but didn't fall.
"Good job." He said to her. He turned in his seat. "Jason?"
Jason shook his head. "No answer."
He turned the radio up, hoping to hear more. In his focus to get the car safely off the road, he hadn't been able to hear the rest of the story, but the reporter was already saying, " . . . and in other news."
"Damn!" He said. "Jason, google it." They both turned and watched him as frantically typed. "Ali, give me your phone."
"It's at home." She said softly. "No phones while driving."
"Okay, it's okay." He reached over holding onto her hand. "Jason, why does it say? It doesn't take that long to text."
Jason looked up from the phone, his face white. "I . . . I . . . Don't know. There's a whole bunch of different . . . It is . . ." His eyes were clouded by tears.
Henry reached for the phone, trying to keep focused on the screen in front of him. He fumbled looking for his glasses and tried to ignore the sound of Alison's sobs.
"I can't find my glasses. Damn it. I can't . . . I can't read anything!" He pushed the phone toward Alison. "What does it say?"
She wiped her face taking the phone from him. "Um . . . okay, this one says that they had a mechanical failure, and turned back. That doesn't sound too bad, right Dad?"
She looked up at her father, but his face was white. She turned back to the phone. "This one says that the plane was shot down!" Her eyes grew huge. "Dad!"
"The next one says it crashes." Jason said quietly. "Ali, they don't know anything. Everyone is just guessing. Right, Dad?"
"Um . . . Yeah. I . . . Mechanical failure? What did it say?"
"I don't know." Ali scrolled through the phone. "It keeps changing!"
"Okay. So they don't know yet." He exhaled loudly. "We'll go home. Ali, switch with me. You keep trying Mom's number, okay? I'll drive." He pushed open the door and wobbled on rubbery legs around the front of the car. Allison climbed out and stopped to hug him tightly before moving to the passenger side.
"It's okay, hon." He told her. "It's probably nothing." But in his mind he kept seeing the diagram of Vincent Marsh's plane, red arrows point out the mechanical failures, it had suffered.
He drove with no direction, completely disoriented. The car was silent as Alison dialed her mother's number repeatedly. She would dial, listen, hang up, wait and then dial again. The only sounds in the car came from both Jason and Ali, as they fought tears, and from Henry as he would say in a flat,emotionless voice, "Dial again."
Finally, Alison said, "The battery is dead.
"Plug it in!" He spoke sharply frustrated that he had heard nothing from his wife.
"I can't." Alison said sobbing. "There's no charger."
"Why the hell not?" He blew up. "You kids keep taking it out of the car! I've told you to. . ."
"Mom took it." Jason said softly.
Henry gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He forced himself to calm his racing heart. "Okay." He said mostly to himself. "This is our exit. We're almost home."
"The agents will know something!" Alison said, as they turned on the street. "Won't they?"
"Yeah." Henry nodded his head. He didn't even bother to park carefully, leaving the car at a crazy angle. He hopped out, not even turning off the engine.
"Dad!" Ali called as she reached over and turned the key off, but he was already sprinting to the porch to meet the DS agent who was rushing to meet him.
"Ali?" Jason's voice sounded young.
"Come, on, Jase, let's go see. It'll be okay." They climbed out of the car together, but stopped dead in their tracks as they watched the DS agent swing his arms out wide to catch their father as he fell to his knees on the ground.
***MS***
Stevie McCord, sighed, trying not to glance at the clock on the back wall. Time was moving excruciatingly slowly. She had been fortunate enough to find another hostessing job. Although she was grateful for the needed income, it was pretty depressing to think about how far she'd fallen. Time was crawling tonight. The restaurant nearly completely dead.
"Hey, Adams!" Her manager called out. "It's dead as hell, you're cut."
She glanced around the room. "Adams!" He repeated stepping closer and tapping her shoulder. "You're cut. Do your side work and get off my clock!"
"Oh, right. Sorry." It always took her a minute to remember her name was Stevie Adams. She had to go through a whole song and dance with the general manager about using a different name. She was the only one who knew her real name.
"So," Martha had said. "You're telling me, I just hired the Secretary of State's kid?"
"Yeah, but look. I just want to live my life, okay?"
"Well, what's your middle name?"
"Elizabeth." Stevie told her.
"That won't work. What about your Mom's maiden name?"
"No thank you! I'm not going through the anguish of being called Faulkner! How about Adams? It's my grandmother's maiden name."
"Okay, Stevie Adams, you start tomorrow, but you better practice answering to Adams. Tony's my night manager and calls everyone by their last name."
She made her way back into the kitchen, praying that their wouldn't be a ton of silverware to roll.
"Hey, Stevie!" Amber said as she turned to go into the back of the kitchen. "Martha wants you in the office."
"Martha's here?" Stevie's heart sank. She must have screwed up pretty good if the GM had to come in. "Did she sound mad?"
"Don't know. Becca said she came in ten minutes ago, looking really pale, like she was sick and then she asked for you."
"Shit!" Stevie said. "Thanks."
"Good luck!" Amber said with a shrug.
Stevie climbed the stairs to the tiny office that overlooked the restaurant. She drew in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Stepping inside, she saw Martha and Tony both. Neither one of them looked happy.
"Did I do something?" She asked anxiously.
"You have your phone with you on the floor?" Martha asked.
Stevie exhaled, relieved. They were really uptight about phones at work. She knew they often did sweeps to make sure none of the staff had their phones out on the floor.
"No. Well, I guess it's in my pocket, but it's off. I mean, it got shut off. I'm waiting until payday to pay the bill." She shrugged embarrassed.
"So no one from your family can get a hold of you, if they wanted to?" Martha asked, and suddenly Stevie felt her stomach drop. This wasn't a simple phone sweep.
"No . . .I haven't really talked to them lately . . . what's going on?"
"I'm sorry. I was driving home and the story caught my ear - the last name, McCord." She glanced at Tony. "I told him. Was your Mom on a trip somewhere?
"She was in Nepal." Stevie slowly sank into a chair behind her. "Did something happen?"
"I can't tell. The information isn't clear and I don't know who to call. There was a report on the radio that they had to make an emergency landing - in Jordan, I think."
Stevie fumbled for her phone out of habit, but then remembered that she had no service. Her eyes filled with tears. "Can I borrow your phone?"
"Here." Martha pushed the phone toward Stevie, who immediately dialed her mother's number, but it clicked straight over to voice mail. Hanging up, she immediately called her Dad's phone but the same thing happened with his. Oh, shit! Stevie thought. Please, God! No! She couldn't bear the thought that the very last time she ever saw her mother, she had caused her to have a panic attack.
"Did you drive here?" Martha asked gently and Stevie shook her head.
"I don't have a car."
"I'll drive you home." Martha said grabbing her bag. "You keep calling."
Stevie followed her boss numbly out of the office and down the stairs. "Can you take me to my parent's house? It's just across town."
***MS***
Henry McCord sat on the absolute edge of the couch. His cell phone was on the table in front of him. He stared at it, willing it to ring. Glancing at the clock behind him again, he saw that only two minutes had passed. Five more. He told himself. It will ring in five more minutes. He glanced behind him at Alison who paced the room like a caged tiger.
"Noodle, it's fine. We are just waiting." He told her.
"I know." She said, but sounded wholly unconvinced.
"You're making me nervous." Jason told his sister. "Sit down." He looked up at her from where he sat across from his father. Alison nodded, and crossed the room, sitting on the floor at Jason's feet. Her younger brother, sighed relieved and Henry nearly smiled, recognizing, as Alison had, that he had wanted the comforting nearness of his older sister.
He glanced at the clock again, but nearly jumped out of his skin as the phone finally rang.
***MS***
Stevie sat completely still in the car, trying not to become completely hysterical. She reached forward switching on the radio. "Do you mind?" She asked her boss.
"No, it's on a news station." Martha said to her.
" . . . say that at least seven people were killed in the storm." Stevie drew in a panicked breath. "The tornado touched down near a small residential neighborhood." She exhaled realizing they weren't talking about her mother's plane. They had to sit through sports and weather, and six commercials before the news cycled back around to the top stories.
"They say lightning never strikes twice, but a possible mechanical failure of the private jet that carries the United States Secretary of State has people wondering if any of America's diplomats are safe. The status of Secretary McCord is unclear at this time, as the plan had to make an emergency landing somewhere over Jordan. Information is limited at this time. Some have reported seeing wreckage, but no official statement has come from the State Department or White House at this time."
Stevie reached out clicking off the radio, unable to listen any longer. She stared at the phone in her hand, unable to remember any phone numbers, unable to even breathe.
***MS***
"Henry?"
"Yeah," He managed to gasp out. "I'm here. I . . . it's good to hear your voice."
"I tried to call right away, but I couldn't find my phone and then we had no reception. It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing happened." She was desperate to reassure them.
"Bill told me." He said. "It was just for a few minutes that we didn't know. I'm okay." He reassured her. "We weren't home. I took Ali out driving, so we couldn't get any information until we got back home. You are okay, though?" He found himself blinking back tears.
"I'm fine. The pilot was just being overly cautious. There was a storm and rather than fly through it, he choose to land. Visibility was low or something? I don't know. I don't know where all the stories came from! I swear, Henry, I tried to call as soon as I could."
"I know, babe. It's okay. I'm okay." He exhaled slowly feeling as if every single muscle in his body had been tied up in knots. "It was just really scary for about fifteen minutes. That's all."
"Fifteen minutes is a long time, babe." She said compassionately. "Henry, I'm sorry."
"Fifteen minutes is freaking lifetime!" He confessed, his voice suddenly thick. "Baby, when are you coming home?"
"I don't know. They are waiting for it to clear. The pilot thinks it should be safe in a couple of hours."
"Okay." He paused. "I'm gonna put you on speaker, okay, sweetheart? Ali and Jason would love to her your voice." He glanced at them.
"I'm so sorry, babe." She said again.
"It wasn't your fault." He pushed a button. "You are on speaker now."
"Ali? Jase? Hi, guys! I'm okay!" She called out and he could hear the strain in her voice.
"Mom!" Ali said. "Mom! We were so worried!"
"I know. I'm sorry Noodle. Same old story, though, huh? The press keeps screwing up our lives! You there, Jase?"
"I'm here." His voice was low and quiet.
"Good. Listen, we just have to wait until the storm clears and then I'll be home. I'll be there by the time you get home from school tomorrow, maybe - definitely by dinner time." She promised.
"Okay." Alison said. "I love you, Mom. I'm so glad you are alright."
"Oh, I love you Noodle, and I'm sorry I scared you guys so much. But honestly, nothing happened. You hear me, Jase? It's not some coverup. The pilot just thought it was too dangerous to keep going, so we landed. No one is lying to you, okay, buddy?"
"Okay." He told her. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too and I will see you tomorrow, okay?"
"We'll be waiting, babe." Henry said.
"Henry?" She said softer. "Am I still on speaker?"
He clicked a button on the phone, nodding at the kids. "Not anymore, babe. Everything is okay, right?"
"Yeah. I just . . . I can't get a hold of Stevie."
"Neither could I. I sent an agent over to Blake's but she wasn't there. Don't worry, hon. I'll find her."
"If she heard any of that ridiculous speculation! Henry, I'm worried!"
"I know, babe. Me too." He paused. "I'll get a hold of her somehow, okay? Don't worry about it. Just get yourself home!"
"I'll call before we leave, okay?"
"Baby doll, you can call me five hundred times between now, and when you walk in that door!" He rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to hide his tears from his children. "I'm so damn glad to hear your voice! I swear to God my heart stopped when I . . ." He cleared his throat. "Just get home, okay?"
"I'm fine." She repeated. "I'll be home soon."
"Not soon enough! I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you, too, Henry. Call Stevie for me, please! And I'll call you again in about an hour, okay?"
"Okay." He hung up the phone and leaned back against the couch cushions, suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then sat up looking at Alison and Jason.
"Well," He said to them. "I guess that's gonna go down in history as one of the most insane driving lessons of all times!"
Alison laughed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I completely freaked!"
"You didn't hit any cars." Jason offered with a shrug. "It was kind of badass the way you crossed all those lanes."
"I don't remember doing that." She said with wide eyes.
"Don't worry about sweetheart," He said rising and holding a hand out to pull her up. "I don't remember driving home!" He pulled her into a tight hug, and simultaneously reached down, pulling Jason up by his shirt collar. "Group hug, humans." He told them. He squeezed them tightly, and kissed each of them on the tops of their heads. "Okay," He said releasing them. "Someone better cook or order food. I think we missed dinner back there somewhere. And do either of you have any idea where your sister is?"
"Her phone got shut off, day before yesterday." Alison told him. "But she got a job and was gonna turn it back on when she got paid."
"You know where she's working?" He asked.
"A restaurant." Jason said. "Here in Georgetown, right, Ali?"
"Yeah, wait give me a sec. I can think of the name." She frowned concentrating. "Wait! She sent me a text about it!"
"Well, go get your phone genius!" Jason told her, but she was already running to the stairs to get her phone. "I'll order Chinese?" Jason suggested.
"Yes! A ton!" Henry told him. "Once we get a hold of your sister, I'll be in the mood to celebrate." He paused in thought, "We know that we have passed from death to life, because of our great love unto each other."
Jason looked up at his father. "You are so weird."
"John 5:24." His father told him. "I don't know my brain is filled with words."
"Sit down. I'll get you a glass of whisky." Jason said pushing his father back toward the couch. "You've been through a lot, old man. You aren't making sense."
"Sure I am." Henry argued from where he sat. "You just need to connect the quote to your own circumstances and you'll . . ." He shook his head. "You're right. Just bring the bottle and glass. I'll pour. Your mother would kill me if I let you bartend."
"I'm thinking she's gonna give us all a pass for a little bit." Jason said with a raised eyebrow.
"You might be right." Henry agreed with a nod. Jason disappeared going into the other room to get the whiskey. He reached immediately for his phone, and texted her.
- I love you - was all he could manage to type.
He typed it seventeen times.