by Tom Corbett
“But he didn’t have to be here physically to help,” Kay gently protested.
“Of course not. This was all about emotional support, just having him nearby. You just never get over the childhood scripts. Every time I am about to confront Father, I grow weak in the knees. I keep saying, he is just a man, an evil man, but he is not God. Sometimes that works, sometimes not. But you know what really worries me? Rhetorical question. I look at myself some mornings and say, I am just like him?”
“You mean Father? No way,” Kay protested.
“I wish I could feel as confident as you. Increasingly, I feel this core of steel within me. I am going to beat that son-of-a-bitch.”
“Well,” Amar said softly, “at least you were not wary of me because I was foreign.”
“Or me because I was black,” Jules added.
At that, Kat looked at one woman and then the other before breaking into a hearty laugh. “Oh my God, is that what you thought?” The laughter spread.
Then, Kat got up and walked to the window, looking out into the brittle dark that had settled over the city. “I’m not that scared girl anymore. It was selfish of me to drag Chris over here. I realize that now. I wasn’t quite ready to let go, I suppose. I still needed to lean on him, I thought, but that was so silly. Chris has no killer instinct. He is his mother’s son, more like Chuck, a big heart, but unlike his older brother possesses an incisive mind.” Then she turned back to the others. “But I am ready now. I am as strong as Father, just not as evil. I can go toe-to-toe with him. He can bait my brother but not me. In fact, I am convinced that baiting Chris today was his plan all along. He had his goon ready to gun him down. Ricky saved him, I am sure of it. Still, I doubt killing Chris was the point. No, he wanted the world to see how much Chris hated him. He will use that in the future. I am not sure how, but he will.”
“No,” Amar protested weakly, “do you really think he would have permitted the murder of his own flesh and blood, right there, in front of me and the family. I just can’t believe it. No one is that evil.”
Kay laughed derisively. “That is only because you don’t know him Amar. You are from the civilized world, from a normal family.”
Amar arose and joined Kat at the window. “Dear sister-in-law, I never understood what this was all about, I thought it merely a political difference. But I am seeing now. If you need…”
“Stop!” Kat interrupted abruptly. “No, you and the family should return to England when Azita finishes in Madison. Do not fear, I will continue to use my brother, but more on his terms and in ways that play to his strengths. That is the secret, right? You cannot tear people from what they are inside. That was Father’s tragic mistake with my older brother. But if you tap into what makes them unique, well…Besides, what we are up against is not just here. Father is working with right-wing zealots in Europe and the Russians. This is big.”
“What about me?” Kay asked, also arising and joining the growing group at the window. “Do you need me here? I would stay.”
Kat smiled. “No, dear sister. You are a healer. You mend broken bodies and are damn good at it. And there are many of those out there, broken bodies. You have a gift, use it. The thing is, I sense, is that you also have an organized mind. Yes, in that way you are like me, almost like Father - directed and purposeful, not like Chris and certainly not like Chuck. You, my dear, go back and run that organization that Chris started. It is growing way beyond what Chris ever imagined, Karen and the management staff will need help. Don’t forget, it will expand further with that mission to reclaim Muslim girls that Deena is already working on with Doctor Al-Hussein and that Azita will join next summer. It will overwhelm Karen.”
“But you will be alone,” Kay protested.
“No, she won’t.” Jules stood. “I am with her, she knows that, and so is her husband, my sweet brother whose purpose in life, it appears, is breaking Chris’s nose.” She laughed briefly at her small joke.
When Jules arrived at the group, Kat wrapped her arms around her. “The Jackson kids, what would I do without them? But I so worry about you, your safety. You are alone now. At least I have Ricky and we know how good he is with his fists.”
“Well, don’t forget,” Jules said and smiled, “he only beats up Chris and we know that boy can’t fight worth a dime.” At that joke, they now all laughed.
Kay looked out at the twinkling lights of early evening. “What a goddamn family. We all ran away, Chris to Oxford, Chuck to the other side, and me first to an ER hospital and then, when that was not far enough, to Afghanistan. All but one ran, the baby and the one we thought so little about. And she turned out to be the glue that brought us together. Ladies, get your drinks. Another toast!” They all retrieved their glasses. “To us, joined in sisterhood and in common cause, each pursuing our own individual obsession in our own ways. And yet, joined as one in all the ways that count.” Glasses were raised amidst a small cheer.
Amar looked at the other three women. “I need to say this. For the first time, really for the first time, I feel connected to all of you, not just Kay. Either that, or you have gotten me…shitfaced.”
They all laughed.
CHAPTER 18
SUMMER OF 2017
It was a fine early summer day in Madison. The sultry, midsummer humidity had yet to arrive while the bitter winter chills were now a mere memory. The spring semester was over and, while a university never slept, this was a brief period of relative quiet. Chris always thought it a shame that serene institutions were despoiled on an annual basis by permitting noisy, bothersome students to return. This is ideal, he thought.
While the others trailed behind, he and Ahmad had carried out food to the end of Picnic Point, the lovely peninsula that jutted out into Lake Mendota. It was aptly named, a perfect spot for a family picnic. Everyone had migrated to Madison to celebrate Azita’s completion of her internship, in which she functioned more like an adjunct faculty member than a student. Still, she often remarked how much she had learned. Teaching was a great way to learn, she now often told others. She could see why Chris enjoyed the classroom.
“Sir,” Ahmad said nervously as they finished unloading the food, “may I have a word?”
“Of course, by carrying the heaviest stuff, you have earned that right.”
“Thank you. Well, I wanted to ask…that is, if you are amenable…how should I put it?”
“Stop!” Chris said, working hard to suppress a smile. “Are you about to ask me for permission to marry Azita?”
“Ah, yes sir, if it is not too much trouble?”
“Trouble?” Chris was about to go on when he saw Azita, Deena, and Amar come into view. In a low voice, he murmured to the uneasy young man standing in front of him: “Okay, just play along with me, okay?”
This was not what Ahmad was expecting but he nodded. “Alright.”
In a loud voice. “You want my permission to marry my daughter? Really? I don’t think so, young man.” Then, turning to the three women, looking directly at his daughter, he continued. “No way am I permitting you to marry this man.”
The three women looked at him. Deena blinked, Amar looked on warily, while Azita merely smiled. “Ahmad, punch him in the nose. Everyone does it.” Then she laughed.
“Damn,” Chris complained, “there was a time when that would have worked. I trained you too well.” Then Chris threw his arm around Ahmad’s shoulder. “Son, you have more than my blessing, if such is possible. But mind you, she is a handful. What you need is my sympathy.”
“Oh, I know sir.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Amar said as she arrived at Chris’s side. Then she hugged Ahmad. Hmm, I wonder if it is too late to teach my daughter some domestic skills?”
“Wouldn’t someone have to teach you some first?” Chris shot out.
“Azita is right, Ahmad, punch him in the nose, the last punch did not quite straighten it out as we had hoped.”
Ricky, Kat, Jules, and many of the staff Chris
had been supervising then came into view, along with a few of Azita’s new friends whom she had helped through their internship. This would be a celebration of another milestone in Azita’s career and a commemoration of the family’s return to Oxford. Good cheer and sadness would be mingled. Chris noted that Carlotta had come over for the event mostly, he observed to himself, to be with Atle, who now was free from other entanglements and who would be returning to England to work under Chris. Yes, that was meant to be, Chris said to himself. He went around chatting with Pamela, April, Josef, and the others with whom he had been working. Oddly enough, Pamela, the only native-born American, would be the only other stateside staff member besides Atle to cross the pond to work directly for Chris. The others would move to Chicago, though it was understood that Chris would provide a great deal of the intellectual input for their work. April had wanted to relocate but Kat was wary of her infatuation with Chris and decided to keep her close and out of emotional harm’s way.
After Chris had chatted with each of them, he sought out Kat. “I am going to miss them, at least the ones staying here. If they only knew that each of them is smarter than me.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Kat smiled. “It is amazing how much a little BS can cover.”
“Hey,” he said, “be honest, is my nose now straight, after this last break? It is, isn’t it?”
“Oh, my dear brother, so vain. But do not worry, Amar still loves you. We cannot figure that out, a mystery for sure, but she still does.”
“Tell me one thing,” Chris said and smirked, “when did you turn from this shy, demure young girl into a total asshole?”
“Hah, when I started to pay attention to Father. And speaking of him, listen, our work continues. I know you understand that.”
“Yes boss.”
Kat would miss his sassy smile but continued. “You will spend more time on Russia and Europe, it is all part of their big plan. You do know that the Mercer family is funding a large part of the Brexit move? They hate the European Union which is a counter power center to their own designs. And you will have to pay attention to Igor Korobov, he is the Russian top dog directing the work of the old KGB guys in Section A in the First Chief Directorate, which is all part of the Russian Federation’s Internet Research Agency. We now know that during the election, this so-called consulting company was using thousands of English-speaking agents, first in St. Petersburg and then in Moscow. They reached 150 million citizens with their meta-narratives and misinformation. And Americans are so stupid that some believed Hillary and Podesta were trafficking children for sex out of a D.C. pizza parlor. Free election, my ass.”
“Hey, Kat, we have been over this stuff. They won’t have a free hand in the future. But today we’re going to enjoy ourselves. Look about you, a beautiful setting and my daughter is now officially engaged. At least I believe she is. Then again, what the hell do I know?”
“Not much.” Kat looked to locate Azita. “I am going to get to the truth about this engagement and then congratulate her. Just remember, I will miss you, you know.”
“That is what all the girls say,” he shouted to her as she made her way to his daughter.
“I could not help but overhear her. She is tough as nails, and so obsessed with what is going on. She thinks she gets that from Father.” Kay came up to him and handed him a drink.
“She is not like Father, she has a conscience,” Chris responded.
“Despite all that bravado, she needs you, she does,” Kay said.
“And whom do you need?” He asked, looking at her tenderly. “We haven’t really talked since Chicago.”
“TBD, as they say, to be determined. I am solo now, though staying with Jamie for the kids’ sake. I never did deserve him. And I have worked out a role with Shahed and Karen to liaison between the two efforts on medical matters, but in a way that will keep me in the field a lot. That will keep your daughter in England more.”
“You are a saint, but you look after your own ass. I don’t want to lose you, now that I have found you again.” He hugged her. However, this also sounds like a perfect way to run away from things.” Chris said too quickly to cover up a mixture of affection and concern. “Sorry, uncalled for.”
“Perfectly called for,” Kay responded coolly “but not today. Glad you are coming back.” She kissed him on the cheek and wandered off to look across the water toward the city skyline and the state capitol.
Chris thought of going after her but was distracted as Azita and Deena approached. “That did not take long, everyone knows now,” Azita said.
“Knows what? That you were drummed out of the medical profession?” Chris deadpanned.
“Hah, hah, that I am engaged,” Azita said.
“You say that as if that is a bad thing.”
“Well, my last attempt at this engagement thing did not turn out well.” She looked uncertain.
“This one will, my dear, this one will. I guarantee it.”
At his words, Azita smiled. Then she and Deena started rapidly talking about Oxford, telling him about the project, Ahmad’s role, and all the things Deena and Doctor Shahed Al-Hussein had been working on over the previous few months. It was obvious that Azita had lost all her reservations about this new initiative. More importantly, she had fully forgiven him for his deviousness. He pretended to listen as he looked into her earnest eyes. Had he ever been that excited? Perhaps the time when his basket at the buzzer propelled Princeton into the Sweet Sixteen of the NCAA basketball tournament where their championship dreams would quickly end. But no, that was merely a game. Then it gripped him that his plan was not foolproof. Azita and Deena would be, on paper, stationed in Oxford but, by necessity, had to spend a lot of time in the Mideast doing things that would upset the fanatics of the region. Kay might keep her away from danger somewhat but not completely. He knew that he and Amar would die a thousand deaths every moment they were there. How had he lost his heart to these two young women?
His reverie was disrupted as people finally gathered in a big circle to eat and celebrate. People chatted away happily, individual conversations broken occasionally by a group joke. Ricky promised to break Chris’s nose later that afternoon in a final attempt to straighten it out. Karen Fisher stated that she was petitioning parliament to label Chris an undesirable alien and keep him out of the U.K. His twin sister announced very seriously that she wanted to break the news that her brother was not returning to England but moving to D.C. to take a cabinet position in the Trump administration. Jules piled on that one by assuring all that Chris wasn’t smart enough for that crowd, which brought even more laughter.
This went on for a while until Amar got everyone’s attention. She reviewed for the crowd a few of Azita’s accomplishments while at the university children’s hospital. Then she paused and grew quite serious. “Of course, we all know she is very talented. I had the joy of discovering that when she was eleven or twelve years old. But permit me to share the opinion of another, someone who cannot be with us today.” With that, Amar reached in to her bag and pulled out a worn book, a journal, that oddly enough looked as if it had been pierced by a bullet.
“Oh,” Deena gasped. Azita cast her eyes down but said nothing.
“This is a journal, written by Madeena Masoud, Azita and Deena’s mother. Azita found it when she and her sister visited their father’s village. It was providence, I suppose, that she slipped it into her blouse. Moments later, they were attacked by a would-be assassin. A bullet heading for her heart was stopped by this…expression of a mother’s love. Azita shared it with me and I have read it many times. Forgive me girls but I must share one passage, if I may?”
Deena nodded and Azita managed to say “Yes”.
This is the final entry, written the night their parents were assassinated. It is toward the end of the journal, so the bullet never reached it, did not deface it. She opened to the page she had marked:
We are gathered once more in my dear husband’s old village where he was
raised. It is a sad visit, to honor our son, Majeeb, who died fighting the Taliban. He was a simple boy, but with a huge heart. Though I grieve terribly, part of me is at peace. Majeeb died in the right way, if that is possible, fighting for what he believed in, for what was necessary. I am so fortunate to yet have my two daughters. Now I can smile but they were such a bother growing up always fighting with one another. Deena seemed so lacking in ambition, she drove me to distraction. I thought her destined for an ordinary life at best, which I suppose would be fine, but I expected so much more. On the other hand, Azita seemed destined for crushing disappointment. She worshipped her father, following him around like a puppy dog. I thought her such a foolish and aimless girl, chasing a ridiculous dream, until I realized that she was blessed with a unique talent. I looked at them earlier this evening, both were in their books, ever improving themselves. It occurs to me, not for the first time, that Pamir and I are so blessed. He has a daughter who will carry on for him, a healer of bodies. And I have a daughter who will carry on for me, a shaper of girl’s intellects. Now, for the first time, I believe they will be what they can be. It will happen. My heart may burst. Can any mother ever feel more happiness? Well, time to put this journal down and join my husband in sleep. He is snoring already.
Amar closed the book and wiped the tears away from her cheeks. She was not the only one who needed to do so.
Chris looked about him on this idyllic summer day, as people absorbed the written words of a loving mother. The waters that surrounded them were blue, not in themselves, but reflecting the pristine sky that protectively hovered above. Even that hue from the color spectrum was merely a byproduct of the sun’s rays fighting through the layer surrounding Earth that gave life a chance to survive and thrive by deflecting that which would snuff it out. It is all remarkable, he thought. The intricacies of the divine thought that made this miracle of life possible in such a remote spot in a galaxy that itself was lost in a myriad of similar celestial miracles, some two-trillion of them. Two trillion, he silently repeated to himself. The universe never ceased to amaze him, humble him. At the same time, somewhere beyond the edge of his view, conflict and hate and greed despoiled this miracle. Everything in him screamed to ignore what was out there, forget it existed, to hold dearly onto this moment, this joy, this beauty, this peace.
