8 Months Ago…
Annual Christmas Eve Ball
The American Bar Association
East Grand Ballroom, the Willard Hotel
Washington, D.C.
"What do you say, Nance?"
Nancy jerked, almost spilling her wine. She caught Grant's eye. He, Malcolm, and Hilary were watching her expectantly.
The soft background strains of Christmas music reminded her of where she was. The Annual Christmas Eve Ball put on by the greater D.C. Chapter of the American Bar Association was strictly a black tie affair. Anyone who was anyone was here tonight, ensuring that they were being seen by those they deemed noteworthy or of importance.
As far as Nancy was concerned, it was a lot of "Humbug!" Of course, it was just their luck that she and Grant ended up seated at the same table as Malcolm and Hilary Duncan again. The other couples at their table were off dancing, enjoying themselves, but she was stuck here in the middle of "The Dinner Conversation from Hell" while Grant schmoozed the big boss.
"I'm sorry…?" She looked blank. "What were we talking about?"
Grant gave her an exasperated look. "Malcolm wants to know when we're planning to start a family. I said within the year."
"Excuse me?"
"Malcolm is a great believer in family, Nancy," Hilary explained helpfully. "Why…I was expecting our first within two months of our marriage." She blushed girlishly. "We had three more soon after."
"Stable families make for stable employees," intoned Malcolm, as if imparting some great bit of wisdom.
Nancy shook her head. "I—I'm not sure we're ready to start a family anytime soon." At least, I'm not ready, she added silently.
"We've been together almost four years now," Grant said outwardly patient. "How much more time do you think we need?"
Nancy sensed his annoyance with her. This was not a new topic of conversation between them. In all fairness, Grant had understood her reluctance when they were first married and had been willing to wait, but she knew that he was growing impatient with her continued unwillingness to even consider children.
"Oh…I don't know," Nancy stammered. "I mean…" She thought about the heartbreak of her miscarriage and the pain of her divorce soon after. The first year that followed, she had suffered from nightmares—that of a baby's cry in the middle of the night, always just out of reach. She had lain awake in the dark unable to go back to sleep, her empty arms aching for her baby, and missing John with a desperation that hurt. She'd turned to Grant those nights, clinging to him in the hopes he'd chase away her ghosts. Eventually, the nightmares ended, but not the pain.
Nancy cringed at the thought of trying again for a child. However, before she could reply, her cell phone rang. "Excuse me," she muttered, glad of the interruption.
She checked the caller ID and looked at the others apologetically. "I'm sorry. I have to take this…If you will excuse me?"
Without waiting for a reply, she stood and quickly left the ballroom. Stepping outside into the chilly, December night, Nancy finally answered. "This is Director Stephens speaking."
"This is a Homeland Security Exercise Alert Condition Notification. Authentication code Delta-Niner-Mike-Sierra-Three…This is an exercise. Repeat. This is an exercise. Exercise Threat level is DEFCON 2. Repeat. Exercise Threat level is DEFCON 2. Proceed to Emergency Rendezvous Echo-Romeo-Bravo-Three-One-Two. Acknowledge."
Her hands shaking, Nancy was barely able to hang on to the phone. This was only the second such exercise called since her promotion to Director. And the first DEFCON 2 Alert. If this were the real thing, then the country would be just short of imminent danger of attack. What worst case scenario had they randomly selected to play out the perceived threat?
Taking a deep breath, Nancy spoke into the phone. "This is an exercise. Exercise Threat level DEFCON 2. Proceed to Emergency Rendezvous Echo-Romeo-Bravo-Three-One-Two. Acknowledged." As she closed her cell phone, her thoughts automatically began to check off all the necessary responses required of her office."
"Nancy, what's going on?"
"I'm sorry, Grant. I was just about to go back in and tell you…I've gotta go."
"Let me guess," Grant said sarcastically. "A sudden national emergency has just cropped up, and the Secretary of Homeland Security wants you ASAP, right?" Before Nancy could reply, he held his hand up. "Oh, but…you can't tell me what it's all about."
"Grant, you know the drill. I can't—"
"—Talk about it." He finished, glaring at her. "This is just so typical! You know how important tonight is for me—"
"I don't have time for this," Nancy interrupted. She paused as the valet brought her car around.
Grant's complexion turned apoplectic. "Nancy, if you leave…"
"I'm really sorry, Grant," she said as she opened the driver's side door. She gasped as Grant grabbed her wrist and jerked her around. "What are you doing? Are you crazy?"
"Don't think I don't know about Patrick Sheppard's Wake, Nancy…or that you had a cozy little meeting afterwards with your ex."
"What—? Grant, have you been spying on me?" Nancy looked at him in shock.
"Apparently, I was right to feel suspicious. All those mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night. What, were you running off to meet him then? Or maybe someone else? How about now? I'm sick of this, Nancy—the whole thing. If you leave, we're done," Grant said through gritted teeth. "Do you understand me?"
Nancy felt an icy fury grip her insides. She glared at her husband and without warning, twisted her body and slammed her high heel into Grant's foot, eliciting a pained yelp. Grant's fingers immediately loosened their hold on her wrist, and Nancy then elbowed him in the ribs, taking great pleasure at the sudden whooshing sound he emitted.
Ironically, it was a move that John had drilled into her their first year of marriage. The young Special Ops pilot had wanted his bride to be able to defend herself while he was away on deployments.
"Don't you ever lay a hand on me again!" Nancy took a deep gulp of air, her chest heaving, realizing there would be no turning back.
"We're through, Nancy," Grant gasped. "I'm filing for divorce."
Nancy just stared at him. The whole, ridiculous situation was just getting away from her. You didn't throw away nearly four years of marriage like this. Not over something as trivial as her walking out on a dinner or attending her ex-father-in-law's Wake.
"Grant…We'll talk later, okay?" Grant just stared at her without speaking, and turning on his heel, headed back inside. "Grant-!" She watched hopelessly as he disappeared into the landmark hotel. Why couldn't he see that he had nothing to worry about where John Sheppard was concerned? Or understand that she had a job to do and that the mission had to come first?
As she pulled into traffic, similar arguments with John echoed unbidden in her head. Arguments that had inundated their marriage like a tsunami whenever the phone had rung late at night, calling John away for yet another mission.
Now, memories that had once seemed so clear, reflecting her feelings of hurt and betrayal, appeared broken and distorted as if she were seeing them through a shattered funhouse mirror...
"You're leaving again? You just got back!"
"What do you mean, we're being transferred? I worked hard to get a position at the firm! Now I have to give it up?"
"You weren't here, John…! I needed you…Our baby needed you. But that doesn't matter, does it? We didn't matter…!"
And, instead of appearing justifiably upset and reasonable, Nancy sounded strident and bitchy. While John—rather than cold and indifferent—looked worn-out and resigned, as if knowing she would never accept that he loved her with all his heart even though the mission came first. If the situation weren't so painful, she'd break out laughing.
At least with John, it had never been about another woman. It looked like the last laugh was definitely on her.
oOo
