In my (still relatively limited) career in the field, I'd been to nearly three dozen countries. In my entire life, I'd been in twenty different states.

Today was my first time in Nebraska.

"You shouldn't be nervous." Matt said, taking my suitcase from my hands as we wound our way through the airport. "Now, I know you can carry this yourself, but I'll never hear the end of from my parents if I don't take it. Do you want to stop for more coffee or something before we meet my parents?"

"No, I'm fine."

I'd already talked through every anxiety I'd felt with Abby, but I'd never met a man's parents before, and I had limited experience with normal people. I didn't need more caffeine on an empty stomach with the way I felt.

The airport in Omaha wasn't large, but it wasn't as small as some that I'd been to. It didn't take us long to find the entrance nearest the parking lot, and if Matt's sudden smile hadn't been enough of a clue, I was able to immediately spot his parents in the crowd. His dad, Jim, stood tall, with his hands at his hips. His salt and pepper hair was neatly combed, and as he spotted his son moving towards him, he smiled, and I could see who Matt inherited his smile from.

Beside Jim was Matt's mother, Annemarie. She was taller in person than I expected, and she looked so much like her son. She was standing with her hands clasped together, looking in the opposite direction as we approached. When her husband nudged her on the shoulder and pointed at Matt, she broke into a wide, blushing smile.

"Matthew, honey!" She held her arms out wide and took two steps forward to meet her son, wrapping him tight in a hug. I lagged behind by a few steps, but once Annemarie was done embracing her son, she held her arms out wide again and looked at me, and if possible her smile grew even wider. "Oh, Rachel! I'm so happy to finally meet you in person!" Her Oklahoma accent was even stronger than the handful of times when we'd spoken over the phone. She hugged me, briefly, before pulling back and saying "Oh, let me see the ring first."

I obligingly held out my left hand, a gesture I'd gotten used to fairly quickly. She twisted my hand around and examined the sparkling diamonds in the florescent airport lighting, and then dropped my hand to look at Matt.

"Doesn't that government job pay you better?"

"No, mom. We've been over this."

"Oh, I'm just kidding you, sweetie. It's beautiful. And you, Rachel, are beautiful!" She suddenly hugged me again, her arms around my neck. Matt had warned me, but he was right—Annemarie Morgan was a lot to handle.

She let go of me long enough for Jim to extent a warm, calloused hand, which I shook, before strolling out of the airport arm in arm with Annemarie, trailing behind Matt and Jim (who, I noticed, walked with the same lazy gait).

I was warned by Matt, and again by his parents, that the drive to the ranch would be a little over three hours long, but that we'd be stopping for dinner between here and there to give ourselves a break. After fitting our luggage in the trunk of Annemarie's car, Matt's mother insisted that she sit in the back with me, so that we could get a chance to talk.

She talked a lot, but not in a way that overbearing, or obnoxious. She was funny and smart, and asked plenty of questions about me and Matt and our relationship and what we'd accomplished in terms of wedding planning (next to nothing). And then Annemarie gave me a complete rundown on the small town where they lived, the extended Morgan family, and the ranch.

Annemarie reminded me of why spies do what they do—I learned more about the small town that Annemarie loved in one car ride than I had learned about the same town from Matt in over a year.

We stopped for dinner at a little Italian restaurant that Matt explained that they ate at every time his parents picked him up from the airport. The food was wonderful, and sitting down at the little table gave me a chance to see how Matt interacted with his parents.

He accepted his mother's teasing without complaint and gave as good as he got; he and his father could finish each other's sentences. He asked how his old high school baseball and track teams were doing, how his brother and niece and nephew were doing. He'd inherited a lot of his father's mannerisms, from the way that they folded their hands on the table before the food arrived, to the way they laughed. It was nice, and part of me was sorry that Matt would never get to experience that with my family. After all, he had technically known Abby longer than he had known me; my mother has been dead for over half of my lifetime; and my father, despite knowing and liking and approving of Matt, was too much of a politician to ever relax and have a normal dinner like a normal father would have with his daughters.

It was late evening by the time we arrived at the ranch, which was much bigger than I was expected. I was also surprised to see that their house wasn't actually a ranch style house—and a silly little part of me wondered why they called ranch style houses that if you couldn't expect to find on an actual working ranch. Jim and Annemarie explained as we drove up the long driveway that they had over 100 acres of land. Raising beef cattle was the heart of the ranch's business, but they had several fields to grow hay, a few horses, a dozen hens, and a small orchard of fruit trees.

After moving my bag into the guestroom, Matt and Jim took me on a tour, where I saw the fields and barns for myself, and I was also introduced to some of the calves and some of the older horses. By the time that we arrived at the gate leading to the orchard, the sun was beginning to set, and the tour soon finished.

The following morning, Matt knocked at my door just as I was pulling on my shoes.

"Breakfast is nearly ready. Dad's got some work to do in one of the barns today, and mom will be at the library. Andrew and his wife and kids will be over for dinner, so I was thinking that today I might give you the tour of the town—it's nothing special, but there's a great place we can go for lunch."

"Sounds great." I replied, following him from the room and down the stairs.

Breakfast was wonderful—french toast and berries and coffee. As soon as we were done eating, Jim excused himself to go to the fields, but not until he handed the keys to his truck to Matt, and Annemarie left for the town library. Not long after, Matt and I followed them out of the front door, strolling arm in arm past the blooming shrubs and early summer flowers, along the gravel driveway. Matt was swinging the keys around his fingers by the ring of a Georgetown keychain, and I remembered the way that he had gingerly walked down the stairs that morning.

"Do you want me to drive?" I offered quietly. He'd only been off of his crutches for a week.

He shook his head.

"No, it's okay. It's just that no matter what I do, my knee's always stiff in the mornings."

"Alright." I said. He wasn't lying. "So where are you taking me?" I asked, as we reached the cherry red truck.

"I thought we could walk through the town—there's not much to see, but the weather will be nice. Then, after lunch, I thought we could grab some ice cream and then go to the park, where I can tell you all the most embarrassing stories of my mischievous adolescence."

Matt was right about the town—it was small, but it was quaint, and the weather was nice. It was nice, being away from the traffic and stress of DC, and to be able to explore somewhere new with Matt for any reason other than a mission. It was even nice just to see how normal people spent their summer mornings running errands and taking their kids to the community pool. I was glad that, if Matt and I had kids, they would be able to see a dramatically different way of life by visiting their grandparents.

Just before lunch, we stopped by the town library. It was small, one block north of the courthouse and one block east of the jail, but there was a circle of kids gathered around an elderly woman in a room off to the side of the entrance, listening to the story, and a handful of teenagers and adults of all ages wandering the stacks.

Matt waved hello to the red-haired woman standing behind the counter who was checking out a stack of books for a round-faced little girl and led me into an office behind the counter. It was small, but bright. Potted plants covered every inch of the windowsill, and on the west wall was a picture of Annemarie, Jim, and Matt, standing together in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Annemarie herself walked in a few seconds behind us, her hands on her hips, clearly agitated.

"Matt, darling. I hate to ask this of you—I know this is technically your vacation—but—"

"What is it, mom?" Matt asked. He rolled his eyes, but he smiled.

"Two shelves just broke of one of the bookshelves in the reference room. Could you take a look at it? You'll be faster than waiting for old Harold Chesham to come look at it, and even if we have to buy something to get it fixed, we'll be able to buy that before Harold even bothers to return my call."

"It's alright, mom. I'll just go give it a look." He shook his head with a fond smile, and glanced over at me. He opened his mouth slightly, but before he could say anything, Annemarie interrupted.

"Oh, no, Rachel, darling. You just stay here, leave Matt to his boring chores. I have coffee and water, or I could make you some tea if you'd rather."

"Coffee sounds wonderful." I said, giving Matt a brief smile before he slipped out of the room, quiet as ever.

"You just sit down, I'll be right back." Annemarie said, waving her hand to a worn, standard issue chair with a crocheted doily hanging over the back. I settled in and waited—I was expecting a conversation like this at some point. But did Annemarie sabotage her own bookshelves for the chance to have a private conversation? Or was that just an accident? Would it be horrible of me to accuse a civilian woman of sabotage? Then again, she's Matt's mother—

"You just take a splash of cream in your coffee, right? That's what you fixed for yourself at breakfast this morning."

"Yes, that's perfect."

Madame Dabney always said that the skills of a hostess and the skills of a spy overlap more than most people would think.

"I wanted to take this moment," Annemarie said, settling into her chair, and placing my coffee at the other side of the desk. "And thank you for taking care of Matt after his accident. That was always one of those things that worried me when Matt moved out east. Who was going to take care of my son when he was sick or hurt if I wasn't there to do it? Oh, Matt has always made friends easily—I've never met Joe, you know, but I know he's a good friend to Matt. But I'm really glad he had you."

"I was glad to be there for him." I answered, trying to force a kind, innocent smile on my face.

"Now, Rachel." She leaned forward, and folded her hands on her desk. I felt like I was back at Gallagher, being punished by Headmistress Wallace (which really only happened once or twice, for the record). "I know who my son works for, and he told me that you met at work. As far as I know, my son works as an analyst who spends his days typing up reports about God-knows-what, and as far as I know, my son's knee was broken in a bicycle accident. Now, I will not ask you to tell me anything more than that, because that's not really what I wanted to talk about.

"It doesn't matter what the two of you do for a living. Things can happen no matter what you do for a living. Jim's been cut and crushed and once, he was bit by a rattler—hell, even I've gotten worse than papercuts on this job. Things like what happened to Matthew, you can't always stop them from happening. I've always believed that no one can be lucky or careful forever, that everyone has a certain quota of little disasters that you can't avoid.

"I just want you to know that I really appreciate the fact you were there for Matt after his. I know he's not a good patient, and he probably didn't make it easy for you to take care of him. But you're a good girl, Rachel. A good woman. I know we haven't had too much of a chance to get to know each other, but the moment Matthew asked you to marry him, you became family. And Morgans are a tough crowd to shake off, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean." I replied, fighting the growing knot in my throat. "And thank you. It means a lot to me that you said that."

Annemarie nodded twice, and took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit, using my coffee cup to cover my mouth and hide the fact that I was taking a deep, shuddering breath to calm myself.

"Now," She said, putting down her cup with a glimmer in her eye. "Before my son comes back, tell me more about what kind of wedding dress you're looking for."

"Well, I want to wear my mother's veil, so it has to match that…"

By the time that Matt and I were sitting on our return flight to DC, I decided that my first trip to Nebraska had gone pretty successfully.