Jeff's version – the flip side. Still not owning them, sadly.

…

Reflections: Jeff

…

/// She bites her lip a little and nods, her hands folding into my lapels. "I know, honey. It's all you dreamt of, I know."

"Please, Lucy. What was your news?" I realize I've been a dolt, rambling on about the mission for half-an-hour or more. But this is the most important thing that ever happened to me. Surely I'm entitled to some excitement – even a little self-congratulation?

She meets my eye. "I'm pregnant."

With those two words, my world falls apart ///

…

There's a soft mewling of sea-birds, the distant crashing of wave against cliff, and the smell of the salt air. To someone brought up in land-locked Kansas the sound and sight of the sea never ceases to be a novelty.

In contrast, the house itself is quiet. Bliss!

These early hours of the morning before the rest of the household wakes are precious. I think I'd probably go insane without them. The rest of the time…well, take five energetic young men – six, if you count Hiram – and throw them together in a small space without much occasion for letting off steam in the time-honored ways – drink is off the cards much of the time, and women are certainly in short supply - then put them on indefinite standby for one of the most hazardous jobs in the world. And what do you get? There's a kind of perpetual, barely-restrained pandemonium around here.

Don't get me wrong - I love all my boys dearly. They're the most important thing in my life.

I just never intended for it to happen. Not like this.

International Rescue has been in the pipeline for a long, long time. Before it came to the point of realizing it, I had visions of surrounding myself by ex-military types; capable, predictable, and undemanding. It never occurred to me in the planning stages that it would end up a family affair. Well maybe one, or two…but all of them? Perhaps it's been for the good, in many ways. But it's become one giant black hole, sucking us relentlessly into its vortex.

Virgil was the first on board. We needed someone to oversee the parts assembly and he seemed like a logical choice, a year or so out of Denver, bored with his first dead-end job in Seattle, and, above all, fiercely loyal. I knew he'd keep his mouth shut and besides, the idea of having Virgil around was appealing. And then it seemed a wasted opportunity not to recruit John's undoubted genius…and so it snowballed. I approached first Gordon, then Alan, with offers of a future place on the team.

What was lacking was an experienced field operative, someone who could turn on a dime from test pilot to heading up a crack rescue team. As determined as I was not to poach Scott from the Air Force, things have a habit of working out in unexpected ways, and when he came on board it was though some final piece of the jigsaw clicked into place.

So here I am with my whole family around me, living my dream. I should be pretty happy with my lot. I am – really I am.

I just that I thought maybe they'd have grown up a little more by now. But I'm an only child myself, so, to be fair, I really didn't see what was coming.

On his own, each one of them at least half-way resembles an adult. But off duty, they're brothers and they do what brothers do - what they've always done. I've finally come to realize that their everyday interactions are based on long-established patterns of behavior that are hard to break, and these grown men revert to type. They annoy the hell out of each other – and me. They bicker, they fight, they lark about, play practical jokes on one another. Allegiances form and re-form daily with a kind of fluid intelligence all of their own. Most of the time I feel like I have a household full of teenagers.

And yet, when the klaxon sounds I have to admit that something truly miraculous occurs. They instantly set aside the old baggage, and re-group, coalescing into an entirely new entity. They're the dream team, in so many ways, and so astonishingly complementary. A perfect set.

I'm learning more about my perfect set every day. How many parents really know their kids? We think we do. We pat ourselves on the back when they turn out smart and strong and say we saw it coming. We even hope some of it was down to us. But not many get the opportunity to see their kids stretched to the limit and tested they way I do. There's nothing like watching them put their lives on the line day in, day out, to teach you what they're really about. At first I worried about how ridiculously young they all are. But the way they work together belies their chronological ages.

They seem like the perfect set. And yet, I wonder. A perfect set makes for a fragile balance. The more perfect they are, the more precipitous the tight-rope walk becomes. It wouldn't take a lot to jar something – or someone - loose.

So what I do isn't a job; no, it's become a whole way of life. Would I have it any other way? Some days, no. On other occasions when I watch my boys come back drained after a grueling rescue, I'm less certain. I'm putting an immense amount of pressure on them, and there's precious little let-up.

And I live with the constant fear. That one of them won't come back. One part of me wants to be out there with them, to keep an eye on them. The better part knows I have to trust them to do their jobs.

But it's a strain. We're constantly short-handed. And still we're only part-way to being truly International. I haven't negotiated landing rights in the States or in Europe or a variety of other places yet. And yet we're establishing no small reputation. Not a month goes by without at least a couple of call-outs. We're fast becoming victims of our own success. We cannot go on like this. This thought has been at the back of my mind now for months.

So now I've finally done something about it I guess I should feel better. But there are issues that are still unresolved, and I suppose it's time to resolve them. Way past time, if I'm honest with myself.

The slamming of a door catches my attention and jerks me out of my reverie. Scott, off for his morning run.

I have work to do. International Rescue doesn't fund itself.

Time to stop day-dreaming and get my head back down into the minutiae of business. I must finish reading these company forecasts. I need to talk to Scott this morning, and it's a conversation I've been putting off as long as I can.

…