Finding North

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  John grimaced at himself.

  “I didn’t learn that he was gay until long after he was no longer Alex’s partner,” John said.

  John turned the laptop around and clicked a button. He turned it back for her to see.

  “This was her second partner,” John said.

  Alex was standing next to another man. This man had thick, brown, shoulder-length hair that had an almost perfect curl to it. His arm was around her shoulder, and she was looking at him with what looked like fondness.

  “Wow,” Samantha said. She took a seat across the table from John.

  “By this time, I was beginning to understand that looking like she was married to this guy was her job,” John said. “The whole ruse was designed to protect her, to save her life in dangerous situations. But . . . I was young. We were young. It was very hard on me. I was an orphan, a college student, and the ‘left-behind husband.’ That’s what I called myself. I’m not proud to say that I made things difficult for her.”

  John turned the laptop around again and changed the photo. Joey made a small noise. John picked him up.

  “This is Carlos.” John tucked Joey into the crook of his arm. “I can attest to the fact that Alex hated Carlos.”

  “You can’t tell it here,” Samantha said.

  “Nope,” John said. “That’s the job — pretend to be married to someone with complementary skills so that you can get the information you need to keep the country safe. Over the years, I’ve met other partner teams. Some are lovers. A few are actually married. But most of them were like Alex — they are assigned to someone who looks like they should be their partner. More than once, a partner will kill the other just to be rid of them. One time, an agent tricked someone else into killing her partner. Very slick.”

  “How did you find out?” Samantha asked.

  “Alex knew,” John said. “I think she killed him, but she never said.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s the job,” John said. “These agents are the best and highest-trained professionals the CIA, NSA, DHS, MI-6, KGB, or whatever puts out. They are deadly on a good day.”

  John turned the laptop around with his free hand and clicked the picture. He slid it around so Samantha could see the image of Alex and Raz. Samantha scowled. She stared at the picture for a while before looking up at John.

  “How did you . . .?” she pointed at the screen.

  “We made an agreement,” John said. “If something happened, she would tell me. We would work it out. Kissing each other, and sleeping in the same bed . . .”

  Samantha cleared her throat.

  “Yes, it’s hard,” John said. “But Alex doesn’t tell personal lies. She’s never hidden what happens between her and her partners. Ever. To her, it’s always been a job she’s had to perform in order to be what she wants to be.”

  “A Green Beret,” Samantha said.

  “Right,” John said. “She’s never crossed the line we agreed to.”

  “Sex,” Samantha said.

  “Of any kind,” John nodded.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Have you ever known Alex to lie about something personal?” John asked.

  “Not well,” Samantha said. “She gets kind of blotchy red and acts weird.”

  “I ask her the direct question and look in her eyes,” John said. “She doesn’t lie. But that doesn’t make her answers any easier. At the same time, she can ask me the same question. The temptation is all around me almost more than it is for her. My job is to be as brutally honest as she is. That’s the hard part. For me. I’m sure that it’s the same for you.”

  Samantha gave a slow nod. John fell silent and turned the computer back around to look at the image.

  “There’s something else,” John said. “You know that Raz and Ben found Alex in the doorway of that dreadful vault, right?”

  Samantha nodded.

  “Do you know what her father did?” John asked. “Her adoring father Benjamin, the one who mentored her, stood by her, and trained her in spy craft? Do you know what he did when he saw his eldest daughter sitting in that doorway?”

  “No,” Samantha said.

  “Of course, you don’t,” John’s voice was bitter and hard. “Because her brilliant father did his job. He assessed the team as dead and went inside the vault to get intel. His job. He sired her, trained her, spent thousands of hours with her all over the world, and he did his job — no more, no less. His child lay in her own blood with her best friend’s head in her lap, and the great Benjamin followed protocol.”

  Joey let out a scream at John’s intensity.

  “You’re right,” John cuddled his son until Joey settled back to sleep. “No need to be upset about what’s done.”

  Knowing he was telling her something important, Samantha watched his face.

  “You know what Raz did?” John asked. Samantha shook her head. “He brought her home to me. He didn’t have to. He wasn’t supposed to. Instead of being a spy automaton, rather than following the rules, he bent down and kissed her. If he hadn’t done that? She would not be here now. She’d be dead. Period.”

  Not sure what to say, Samantha licked her lips.

  “So tomorrow, my lovely wife will leave our home, our children, our life, and go to New York to pretend to be someone else’s wife,” John nodded. “And I’m glad it’s Raz. You know why?”

  “No,” Samantha said.

  “Because I know that, no matter what happens, no matter what the stakes, he will bring her home to me,” John said. “You should be glad, too. Because Alex will never leave him, never just do her job, while he lies dying. She will bring him home.”

  Samantha swallowed hard.

  “They will fight for each other because they love each other,” John said. “Because they are family. My family. In the end, that’s all that matters to me.”

  “You must hate Ben,” Samantha said.

  “No,” John said. “There was an official review. The agency determined that he did exactly what he was supposed to do. Raz was to be written up, disciplined for not following protocol, but your father stepped in and threatened to take the whole mess to a Senate committee. They didn’t want that.

  “So, no, I’m not angry. I can’t ask for more from Ben. But I don’t want to trust my wife to someone who’s going to only do what they’re supposed to do. I want her partner to fight for her and to bring her home to me. Even if she’s barely alive, I’ll take the chance of her surviving over the sure knowledge that she would be dead if it were up to Ben.”

  “But what if it happens? What will you do?”

  “I can’t live my life in ‘what ifs,’” John said. “The moment I do, I miss the amazing beauty of my life, as it is, right now.”

  He nodded to Joey, who yawned. Unwilling to let it go so easily, Samantha turned the laptop back to her and flipped through the images again.

  “Aren’t you being made a fool of?” Samantha asked.

  “I have a surgical nurse. You’ve met her. Trish?” John asked, and Samantha nodded. “Her job is to be my right hand, my assistant. She keeps me on track with surgeries and, to a certain extent, my life. She’s lovely. She’s not breathtakingly beautiful like you are, but she’s lovely, kind, funny, and friendly. I spend more time with her and my surgical team than I do with Alex. Her husband struggles with me because Trish and I spend so much time together. Is Trish making a fool of her husband? Am I making a fool of Alex by working with Trish?”

  “That’s just work,” Samantha said. “It’s not . . .”

  “What does Raz say about Alex?” John asked.

  “He says she’s family.” Samantha swallowed hard. “He loves her.”

  “And the trips?”

  “He says that’s work, but . . .” Realizing what she’d said, Samantha clamped her mouth closed.

  “Look at yourself,” John said. “You’re a beautiful woman. Look at me, I’m quite a catch, if I say so myself. We can have a dozen lovers, and they’d
never know about it.”

  “Why don’t you?” Samantha said, with defiance in her voice.

  “Because that’s not what I want,” John said. “I want Alex. I want this life. What do you want?”

  “But he loves her.”

  “I’m saying that’s better,” John said. “Because he’ll fight for her, and she’ll fight for him. And then, when their job is done, they’ll come home. To us.”

  Samantha’s eyes filled with tears. John gave her a soft smile. She held her arms out for Joey, and he gave the baby to her. She walked around the shared living space cuddling and talking to Joey. When she neared the table again, she paused at the images.

  “We have a luxury that most families don’t have,” John said.

  “What’s that?” Samantha asked.

  “Alex has arranged a high-enough security clearance for each of us. We know generally where they’re going and what they’re doing,” John said. “Most families don’t know a thing. Why not take advantage of it?”

  “What do you mean?” Samantha asked.

  “Go talk to him,” John said. “I know you want to.”

  “But . . .”

  “He’s in the carriage house,” John said.

  Samantha nodded. She started to walk into the kitchen when John said, “Joey?”

  She came right back. John stood to greet her, and she hugged him. He took his son from her.

  “Thanks,” Samantha said. “You’re the only one who’s made any sense.”

  “I’ve had to live with it,” John said. “It’s one downside to a pretty amazing deal. Before you ask, it’s been well worth it. Even before Raz saved her life, it has always been well worth it.”

  Samantha nodded.

  “Go on, then,” John said.

  Samantha smiled and left. John’s words ran through her mind as she walked down the garden path to the carriage house. She said a silent prayer for courage and knocked on the door. It took a moment, but Raz opened the door. He was wearing a white apron, and his hands were wet.

  “Samantha!” Raz smiled. He took a step out of the carriage house and partially closed the door.

  “I wanted to talk,” Samantha said. “Before you go.”

  “I’m sorry,” Raz said. “I wish I’d known that. I would have . . .”

  “Wait a minute,” Samantha scowled. “You’re dressed for a date. And an apron. And . . .”

  Indignant, Samantha’s mouth dropped open.

  “You have a woman here? Tonight?” Samantha’s voice rose with anger. “After you said you wanted to work on us, you’re romancing someone else?”

  “Sami, I . . .”

  “Who is it?” Samantha said.

  Completely out of character, Samantha reached behind him and opened the door. Like Alex, Max, and Colin, she’d trained in martial arts since she was a child. She slipped around him with ease. Moving into his home, she saw Alex and John’s daughter Máire, tied into a wooden highchair on the edge of his kitchen area. The baby flapped her arms in greeting to Samantha.

  “We were making mini-cupcakes,” Raz said. He gave her a wry smile and went to the oven. “I was just about to take them out of the oven.”

  Samantha gawked at him.

  “If you grab an apron, you can help frost them,” Raz said.

  “This is your night with Máire,” Samantha said.

  The twins had so many parents who wanted to spend time with them, that Alex, with the help of her assistant Sergeant Dusty, had created a schedule. The twins spent time alone with each of their parents at least once a week. Alex wanted to make sure they had a chance to soak up every bit of love. Of course, it only worked because the twins didn’t mind spending some time apart.

  “Actually, it’s Wyatt’s night,” Raz said. “We traded so that I could spend time with Máire before I go.”

  “I don’t want to intrude on your time,” Samantha said.

  “You’re welcome to intrude,” Raz said. “We were going to eat a cupcake and head home. Her mama wants her to sleep at home tonight. Plus, as you can see, Máire is tuckered out from a big day with her grandmother.”

  As if she understood what Raz had said, Máire squealed and laughed. Samantha spotted the frosting on the stove.

  “Chocolate ganache?” Samantha asked.

  “Grab an apron,” Raz pointed to the closet. He turned to Máire and asked, “Are we ready for cupcakes?”

  He smacked his lips, and Máire imitated him. He smiled.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” Raz said. He put on his oven mitts and went to the oven. “There’s wine . . .”

  He looked up to see Samantha getting a bottle of wine from his cabinet. Their eyes caught for a moment, and she smiled.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

  “It’s been a long road,” Samantha said. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  He winked and bent down to take the cupcakes out of the oven. Appreciating the view, she smiled.

  FFFFFF

  Sunday evening

  May 15 — 11:11 p.m. MDT

  Alex shifted from under John’s arm, and he opened his eyes.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said. “I’m just awake.”

  His long fingers stroked the side of her face. He kissed her cheek.

  “What is it?” he asked again.

  “Everything,” she said. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  He chuckled.

  “What’s funny?” she asked.

  “You,” he said.

  He reached over to turn on the lamp on his bedside table. He sat up with his back against the headboard.

  “Why am I funny?” Indignant, she sat up. “I’m not trying to be funny.”

  He patted his lap. When she didn’t put her head on his lap, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled. Her head fell onto his lap.

  “What’s going on?” John asked.

  “I . . .” Alex started.

  “You don’t want to go,” John said.

  “I don’t want to go,” Alex said.

  “I don’t want you to go,” John said. “Joey and Máire don’t want you to go. But go you will.”

  Alex didn’t say anything.

  “What happened this morning?” John asked.

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  “In the pool,” John said. “I could see it in your eyes when you came home. I wanted to talk to you then, but your mother arrived, and you needed meds, and it was a party and work and . . .”

  He stroked her military-shorn hair, and Alex snuggled into his lap.

  “What happened?” His voice was low and intimate. She looked up at him.

  “I’m not sure,” Alex said. “That’s the problem. I don’t know if I fell asleep or passed out or . . .”

  Alex swallowed hard.

  “I was feeling sorry for myself,” Alex said. “And hating the lap-swimming man.”

  She sighed. He was so silent that she looked up to see if he was asleep. He gave her a soft smile.

  “What . . .” he started.

  “I hit my hand on the wall,” Alex raised the offending hand. There was a scrape across her knuckles. “And I hit my head. One-two. Scrape, bam, and then I was falling to the bottom of the pool.”

  John’s fingers found the bump on her head from the wall. He lightly stroked the injury.

  “I tried to breathe,” Alex said. She put her hand to her throat. “But my throat . . . The surface seemed like it was too far, just way too far to go. I . . .”

  “Sounds horrible,” he said.

  “Like waterboarding,” Alex said.

  John sucked in a quick breath. She looked at him.

  “S.E.R.E.,” John said.

  “Only worse, because . . .” Alex said.

  “Because?” John asked.

  “There was no hope of surviving,” Alex said. “With waterboarding, you always think that somehow, some way, you’ll survive. You negotiate with yourself: �
��If only I endure long enough . . .’ ‘Surely I can make it through this to see my family one more time. Just to look at them one more time . . .’ Or ‘maybe I’ll figure out what they want, and they’ll stop. Of course, they’ll stop. What is it that they want?’ You always think you’ll survive. Always. Your mind can’t tolerate any other thought. If you give up, you’ll surely die. But this morning . . .”

  “You thought you had died,” John said.

  “Everyone was there,” Alex’s voice became heavy. “Charlie and Paul and . . . Jax and Y and Mike and . . . even Larry and Dwight . . . Dahlia, too. They were all there.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Standing there,” Alex said. “Along the wall of the pool, and the . . .”

  “The cricket,” John finished her sentence. His voice rose with concern. “You saw the cricket this morning?”

  “He was sitting on the bottom of the pool, waiting for me,” Alex said. “He reached out his hand and told me to take the hand. I thought he meant his hand, but my dad . . .”

  Alex sighed.

  “Then it was light and sound and everyone yelling and water and cold . . . And my father,” Alex whispered. “But . . .”

  “But?” John asked.

  “Are they waiting for me in the pool?” Alex’s voice filled with sorrow. Tears slipped out of her guarded eyes. His hands went around her shoulders, and his fingers held on tight. “Did I fail them by . . .?”

  “Not a chance. No,” John said. “I knew every single one of them. They would have wanted you to be here, right here, with me.”

  Alex sniffed.

  “Are you feeling . . .?” John started.

  “Suicidal?” Alex asked. “No. My life is wonderful. You, our babies, our friends, this home . . . No. I’m not ready to go.”

  “Then, what is it?” John asked in a low tone.

  “I’ve been so alone,” Alex whispered. “Since Mom gave me the book. It’s just been me and that stupid language. Just me. I barely see you; I barely see anybody. I haven’t had twin time with Max in . . . months. I miss you. And if I’d died, I would miss you so much, so much, much more.”