by Elise Noble
That incident was basically a metaphor for our entire relationship: always doomed to fail.
But tonight, James spoke about the holiday spirit and wished everyone a Happy Christmas and/or Happy Kwanzaa, then moved on to the part he wanted me to watch. The part I’d hoped for when I planted the seed.
“Law and order is an area of focus for every president. If Americans can’t sleep soundly at night, knowing that I’m looking out for them and their families, then I’ve failed. Two years into my presidency, I like to think I’ve made a difference. Murder rates have dropped, the number of burglaries has decreased in forty-seven states, and the new fraud task force has prevented the theft of over three billion dollars and is well on its way to stamping out corruption in public office. But the punishment has to fit the crime.
“Several weeks ago, a long-standing injustice was brought to my attention. The federal three-strikes law is intended to be a deterrent, and while I believe this works in many cases, there are occasions when good people who have made mistakes end up in prison for life. My team has begun reviewing all cases where the average sentences for the individual crimes would have totalled two years or less, and that process will continue over the coming months. But in the meantime, we’ve identified eleven individuals who should be home with their families this Christmas.”
James read out a list of names. Luis Montero’s was the fifth.
“James is a good man,” Ana murmured.
“Yes, he is.”
Black had always told me that. Despite their bust-up, he’d insisted that James was the president America needed at this point in time and done everything in his power to put his old friend in the White House. Once again, my husband had been proven right.
I pulled out my phone and sent James a message: Thank you x
Five and a half hours later, my phone pinged with a reply. By that point, I’d given up all hope of getting back to Richmond by ten a.m. and resigned myself to having a really awkward conversation with Kiara’s dad in the morning. I’d offer to reschedule the flight for Boxing Day, but dammit, I hated breaking promises.
What was James doing up? It was three a.m. in DC. Certainly he wasn’t doing his wife because they slept in separate bedrooms.
James: You’re welcome. And change your flight plan. You’re going to Spokane.
Me: WTF?
James: Land at Spokane International.
I hit dial.
“James, what are you doing?”
“Abusing my presidential authority.”
“Uh…”
“Please, Emmy, I’m too tired to argue. If anybody asks questions, just cite national security.”
“But—”
“I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
I was left staring at a blank screen. Sometimes, like tonight, I got a reminder that James and Black really were quite similar. The no-nonsense attitude, the ability to get things done, the way they went above and beyond even though they pretended it was nothing. Oh, and the ability to evoke utter frustration and leave me shaking my head in disbelief.
I really hoped that one day, they’d find their way back to the friendship they’d once shared. That would be the greatest Christmas gift of all.
CHAPTER 18
SO WHAT HAD James done?
He’d given me the gift of time. Two hours, to be precise.
Although even that had nearly been eaten up by yet another bloody disaster.
When we got to Spokane, I found an airman waiting outside the terminal in a jeep. So far, so good.
“Where are we going?”
“To Fairchild, ma’am.”
No, no we weren’t. Because as soon as my chauffeur put the jeep into gear, an airport truck stopped right in front of us. The driver waved an apology and tried to restart the engine once, twice, three times, but it wouldn’t catch. Shades of dump truck flashed through my mind. Was someone up there playing a cruel joke on me? Had déjà vu and Loki put their heads together to screw up yet another one of James’s and my plans?
I climbed out of the jeep, and I was about to send him a “you’re not gonna believe this” message when a voice spoke behind me.
“You need a hand?”
I turned to find a man in a fishing hat leaning out the window of a Toyota.
“Yes, I do. I need to find a cab.”
“You won’t have much luck with that at this time on Christmas mornin’.” Tell me something I didn’t know. “Where are you going?”
“To Fairchild Air Force Base. Do you know it?”
“Used to work there. We both did.”
When I bent forward, I spotted another man in the passenger seat, eighty years old or so, an oxygen tube fastened under his nose. I didn’t know who they were or why they were at the airport, but they had wheels, so I didn’t care.
“I’ll give you two hundred bucks if you’ll drive me there.”
“Be happy to, but I don’t need your money. The name’s Gary, and this here is Harold.”
Harold leaned across to wave at me. “Hey, pretty lady.”
“Gary, if you step on it, you might just save Christmas for a little girl in Virginia.”
He patted the car door. “This fine vehicle’s faster than a deer with a bobcat on its tail.”
It must have been quite an elderly bobcat, possibly with two knee replacements to match Gary’s. I learned all about his life on the trip, and Harold’s too. By the time they dropped me off at Base Ops, I had Harold’s phone number and an invite to spend Christmas with the pair of them if my ride fell through.
But thankfully, it didn’t. I’d barely had time to wave goodbye to the pair of legends before I was being ushered over to a hangar to change into a flight suit, and five minutes after that, I was climbing a ladder into the rear seat of an F-15. A fucking F-15.
Well, I had to hand it to James—he sure knew the way to a girl’s heart.
By breaking the sound barrier, the pilot was able to knock three hours off the five-hour journey, even with a slight pause for mid-air refuelling, and I landed at Joint Base Langley-Eustis at nine fifteen Richmond time. That did leave me the teensy problem of how to get from Langley to Riverley, but of course, James had thought of that too.
I did a double take when I spotted a familiar helicopter waiting, a gunmetal-grey Eurocopter with an N-number I knew by heart. Tell me it’s not… James hadn’t flown his own helicopter in years.
No. It wasn’t.
Jake Harrison glared at me from the pilot’s seat, and I resisted the urge to run to the gate and call a taxi instead. James’s younger brother had been giving me the cold shoulder for the past eleven years because he’d never forgiven me for picking my job over James. I couldn’t entirely blame him for that, but that didn’t make the prospect of being stuck in a cockpit with him for the next half hour any more appealing. Would it be weird if I sat in the back?
“Uh, thanks for coming.”
“I’m doing this for my brother, not for you.”
Nine words. That was literally all he said to me for the entire trip. Which hurt because we’d once been friends. Jake didn’t know the full story of the break-up—that was between me, James, and Black—and even though James had told Jake not to be so hard on me, he just couldn’t help himself. I suppose I had to admire his loyalty.
And also the fact that he got me back to Riverley at five to ten. Kiara was already waiting on the terrace with Sloane, who’d come over to help in Bradley’s absence. At least Jake had a smile for the little girl, and he even entertained her with some fancy low-level flying before he disappeared over the horizon. He wasn’t an asshole to everyone, only to me.
“Thought for a moment you weren’t gonna make it,” Jonah Campbell said.
That made two of us. “The timings were a bit tight, but here I am. So, where do you want to fly to?”
“Can we go over our house?” Kiara asked.
“Sure. You’ll need to give me directions, though.”
I got their a
ddress, translated it into coordinates for the helicopter’s navigation unit, warmed up the turbine, and then we were off. Like James, I didn’t get to fly as often as I wanted to anymore, but what made today’s flight extra special—other than fulfilling Kiara’s biggest wish, obviously—was the feeling of utter relief that nobody could ask me to do anything Christmas-related for a whole hour. There was no tinkly music, tinsel, fake snow, candy canes, elves, shepherds, wrapping paper, reindeer, or sleighs, only a very excited little girl whose parents were pretty thrilled too. Kiara’s dad alternated between filming the scenery and recording his daughter’s oohs and aahs for posterity, and her mom kept her nose pressed to the window the whole time.
Meanwhile, Black would be entertaining the lovely ladies at Appletree Acres, and Gwendolyn’s family was in the air, following the same flight path I’d taken earlier albeit not quite so fast. Rhoda, Meriah, and Mina would arrive at Riverley around one p.m., and then we’d head over to the retirement complex. Dan and I had discussed the logistics last night during the many, many hours we’d spent at the airport. We couldn’t simply walk in with Gwendolyn’s long-lost mom. Somebody had to warn her first. Valerie had offered to come with me to break the news while Dan stayed with the others, and I accepted because Valerie had proven to be damn good at that sort of thing. We’d certainly be adding her to Blackwood’s list of approved consultants. She’d become a friend too, over the past few weeks, and I hoped we’d stay in touch as she put her life back together.
When we landed, Kiara gave me the biggest hug, and her mom held out a small gift bag.
“It’s not much, but…”
“I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“I know, but Kia wanted to make you a gift.”
She’d made it? Aw. Home-made gifts were my favourite, firstly because I rarely got them and secondly because they came with love rather than a hefty price tag. Diamonds were nice and all that, but there was only so much jewellery I could wear.
I opened the bag and pulled out the tissue paper.
“Thank you so much. This is… Wow.”
Kiara had made me a tiny helicopter out of modelling clay plus a World’s Best Pilot button badge. And she’d drawn the picture on the card herself, a Christmas tree decorated with tiny airplanes. Inside, she’d pencilled a message in blocky letters.
When I’m a pilot, I promise I’ll take you for a ride in my plane.
Everyone else had been crying this month, and now it was my turn. Not tears, exactly, but my eyes were definitely watery. What was wrong with me? I never used to get weepy like this.
“I’m gonna hold you to that. And when you want to go up in the stunt plane, just call me, okay? We’ll sort something out. Oh, I almost forgot! I have something else for you.”
I ran inside and found James’s gift. It was bigger than I thought it would be, about two feet long, and he’d gotten either Diana or an intern to wrap it—if he’d done it himself, there would have been more sticky tape than paper. I carried it outside and watched Kiara tear into it. That kid had the biggest smile I’d ever seen.
“It’s Air Force One!”
“Indeed it is.”
It came on a little wooden plinth and everything. The wheels on the landing gear turned and the wing flaps moved—no Christmas cracker toys from James.
“What does it say?” Kiara asked, squinting at the base. “Best…of…luck…at flight school?” Yes, James’s handwriting was terrible. He should have been a doctor. “What’s that word at the end?”
“The president’s signature.”
Three sets of eyes goggled.
“The president?” her dad asked.
“Yup. He reckons there should definitely be more female pilots.”
“This is too much.”
“No, it isn’t. Ambition should be encouraged.” I crouched in front of Kiara. “Just remember to pay it forward, okay? When you’re my age, find another little girl and help her to realise her dreams too.”
Kiara nodded solemnly. “I will.”
This was what Christmas should be about. Whoever said that giving presents was better than receiving them was absolutely right.
CHAPTER 19
“HERE YOU GO.” I held the bag with the slippers out to Gwendolyn, and of course Bradley had outdone James’s minions in the wrapping stakes. “Happy Christmas.”
Everyone else had given her knitwear, or so it appeared. Not only did she have a new blanket wrapped around her legs, but she was wearing a bobble hat, two scarves, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Gwendolyn was a rainbow patchwork of yarn.
“That’s ever so kind of you, dear. Are you joining us for lunch?”
“We might have a few mouthfuls.”
“Please do. There’s an extra space at the table since José got his Christmas miracle. Did you hear? The president pardoned José’s father, and he got released from prison first thing this morning.”
“I thought the name on the news sounded familiar.”
Valerie sat down beside the older woman. “Before we head to the dining room, we have a small piece of news for you too. It’s about your sister.”
Gwendolyn stiffened in an instant, leaning forward an inch or two as she gripped the arms of her chair.
“You found something?”
“A little more than we’d hoped for, actually. We didn’t only find your sister; we found your niece and your birth mother too. They’d very much like to meet you if you want that.”
“My birth mother? Oh, no. No, no, no. I don’t want to meet her, not when she abandoned me.”
“She didn’t abandon you.”
“She left me in a church without so much as a note.”
“It’s a long and complicated story, but she was told you’d died. Another family member took you to the church—your grandma—and although it might be hard to believe, she had your best interests at heart. Your mother was just a child herself when you were born, and your father… He wasn’t a good man.”
Gwendolyn was silent for a long while as she stared at the birds fighting over bread on the bird table. What was she thinking? She’d spent her life wondering about her origins, and now that she knew the bare bones of the story, would she want to find out more? I thought she would. After all, her curiosity had been the catalyst for our trip to Alaska.
Finally, she spoke. “That’s the truth?”
“It is.”
“Then I think if I didn’t meet her, I’d always regret it.”
Thank goodness.
Valerie smiled. She did that more and more often now. “Would you like them to come here today?”
“They’re in Virginia?”
“Yes. Your birth mother—Rhoda—and your sister, Meriah, both live in Alaska, and your niece works in Las Vegas, but they all flew in hoping to see you.”
A spark lit in Gwendolyn’s eyes, a tiny sign that she was getting used to the idea of having a family again.
“Then I’d love them to come here. But goodness, I should have had my hair done. And I need to find my lipstick.”
The hair was a problem easily solved by Bradley.
“Don’t worry; I know just the person to help you out.”
I found Black in the residents’ dining room with Doris Hayes sitting on his lap. When he saw me coming, he tried to lift her onto the empty seat next to them, but she clung onto his neck with one arm while the other hand clutched a glass of sherry in a death grip.
Black shot me an apologetic grimace, and I had to laugh.
“Still got it, Chuck.”
“Doris, meet my wife.” When she turned to look at me, he mouthed, “Get me out of here.”
Aw, poor guy.
Doris kept hold of her sherry but let go of Black—priorities—and squeezed my hand.
“You’re a very lucky young lady. He’s a real hottie.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to take him home now?”
“I’m afraid so.”
; “Ah, well.” She sighed wistfully. “We’re all disappointed they didn’t do the full monty.”
I wasn’t, because if Black had been forced to remove more than his shirt, Bradley would be a dead man, and I hated interviewing for household staff.
“Perhaps next time you could hire strippers. You know, for a treat?”
“Ooh!” Doris’s eyes lit up. “What a fabulous idea! Joan!” She scrambled off Black’s lap. “Joan! I’ve got a plan for our New Year’s Eve party.”
Black practically carried me out of the room, past Mal, Jed, and Slater, who were taking selfies with a group of octogenarians. Just another day in our totally normal lives.
“Thank fuck for that,” he murmured. “It was like the zombie apocalypse in there. Every time I got rid of one woman, five more took her place.”
“You seemed to be doing okay by the end.”
“I offered Mal, Jed, and Slater five thousand bucks each to distract them.”
“So you’re ready to go home, then?”
“How do you feel about a trip to Outer Mongolia?”
Black might have been kidding, but I wasn’t with my reply. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Want me to get the jet fuelled?”
“Or we could go for a sail on one of the yachts, just the two of us. Perhaps I’ll buy another island, and this time we won’t tell anyone about it.”
“Good plan. Reckon there’s anything for sale around Tristan da Cunha?” They’d never find us there. “Or New Zealand? New Zealand sounds nice.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“In the meantime, maybe we could just go to bed and sleep until January?”
