by Jan Coffey
“Is he going to be okay?” one kid asked.
“Yeah. That was a close call,” Ted answered.
Everyone had gotten so quiet from the moment they’d followed Ted’s lead and gotten on the train. All of them were sitting around Chris and Ted. No jokes, no talk of the game. He could feel them just watching him.
“I was behind him, but I didn’t push him,” one of the older boys blurted out a few minutes later.
“There were some drunk guys behind us,” one of the girls added.
“My nana says there’s too much boozing at the ballpark and everywhere else. She says to me if she ever catches me with a bottle, then I can just start looking for someplace else to live.”
“You can come and live with me and my dad,” another boy chirped.
There were other offers, too, but Chris couldn’t bring himself to look up. He was terrified of what would happen if Ted put him down.
“We’re the next station,” Ted announced quietly to the kids. He gently rubbed Chris’s back. “How are you doing, buddy?”
He couldn’t answer. The shaking was making his teeth clatter.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d just as soon carry you back to Sister Helen’s house,” he said.
He was too big to be carried around like a baby. But nobody made fun of him, and Chris kept his eyes shut when Ted and the group left the train and walked down to their block.
There were a few pats on his back. One of the boys put Chris’s hat back on his head.
“I fixed it all up for you.”
There were whispers of thanks and goodbyes by others. He continued to shiver, even when Sister Helen opened the door. Ted made a quick explanation about the subway, the close call and Chris getting the scare of his life. He carried Chris up the stairs behind the nun.
“How about a bowl of Lucky Charms before we tuck you into bed?” Sister Helen asked, rubbing his back gently.
They were in the room at the top of the stairs. Ted sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Christopher?” she asked again, taking his hat off and pushing the hair out of his face.
He was nestled against Ted’s chest. He could hear the man’s strong heartbeat. He would be safe here.
“Is he feverish?” Ted asked.
Chris felt the cool hands of the nun on his forehead. “I don’t think so. But it might not hurt to call a doctor.”
Twice when he’d been sick, his mother had taken him to the emergency room. Everybody was loud there, and lots of strangers sat around bleeding and watching the televisions that were hung on the walls. Chris hated the place, and the thought of leaving this room, this house, was terrifying.
“No,” he croaked, slowly opening his eyes. Sister Helen crouched in front of him.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” Ted whispered.
The nun took Chris’s shoes and socks off. “Do you want to eat or drink something?”
He shook his head.
“Do you have to use the bathroom?”
He shook his head again. “I’m cold.”
Ted pulled the covers off the bed and carefully placed him on the sheets. Chris was reluctant to let him go, but he had to.
“Whenever something scary happens, or I have a bad dream, or see something that bothers me, I try to read something happy to get my mind off of it.” Ted tucked the blankets around him.
“I’m still cold,” Chris whispered, glancing at the open window.
Sister Helen went over and closed it tight, locking it.
“So how about if I read you a book?”
“Elizabeth brought these over for Chris this afternoon.” The nun handed a stack of books to Ted.
He thumbed through them. “Huh, what do you know! One of my favorites. Chris, have you read anything by Roald Dahl?”
The door to the room was still open. He didn’t think Sister Helen had locked the front door when they’d come in. She sometimes forgot to lock the kitchen door, too.
“No,” he whispered, still shivering.
“Then I have just the book for you.” Ted sat down on the floor next to the bed, stretching his legs out. “Now, it doesn’t matter what it says in the book, I don’t allow any laughing or giggling. Got it? No body noises of any kind while I’m reading. Understood?”
Chris nodded. He was going to like this book, no matter what. He’d be safe as long as Ted stayed here with him.
Stars were faintly visible above the lights of the city, and Nate breathed in the balmy air. Traffic on the Vine Street Expressway was fairly heavy, in spite of the late hour, but the BMW sped along the fast lane.
“Take the next exit. I’m coming back to your place.”
“You are?” Ellie asked, a tinge of apprehension thinning her voice.
“Vic has my Harley.”
“I can have him drop it off at your hotel.”
“No. Too complicated.” Nate turned to her. Ellie’s fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Even in the darkness of the car, he could tell her breathing was unsteady. To convince Ray that theirs was more than just a dealer-client relationship, they’d put on a little show of not being able to keep their hands off each other before leaving. Whoever was watching them would have been more than convinced that they’d be heading off to a weekend of hot sex.
Even Nate had felt the line between truth and fiction begin to blur. Luckily, she’d put her jacket on when they got into the car to drive back into Center City.
“I know Ray. He won’t give up until you meet with him.” She made the turn.
“I have no problem with that. So long as you’re there to protect me.”
She smiled. “He’d give me a one-way ticket to another continent, if he could, to get some time alone with you.”
“Why, you don’t think he bought our sex-starved-lovers routine?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t think so.”
“Then he must be blind.” He ran the tip of his finger down the side of her throat. “I have to be honest with you. I’m getting so hot for you that swimming naked in the Arctic Ocean wouldn’t cool me off.”
“That’s pretty hot,” she replied quietly, making another turn.
Nate couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She was beautiful, compassionate, sexy, intelligent, and he knew she was attracted to him. A relationship with her would not be simple, though. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized how afraid she was of what was happening between them. For his part, Nate knew he was past denial. He was thirty-six years old, and after coming face-to-face with his own mortality last year, he didn’t want to play any games. What he was feeling for Ellie was a first for him. But he was also determined to be patient and try to understand her without scaring her away.
“The problem wasn’t you back there,” she said after a stretch of silence. “Ray’s known me all of my life. He knows that I keep my emotions under lock and key. I don’t show affection. I don’t kiss in public. I’m very discreet about the few boyfriends I’ve had. In fact, what Vic said about going through a dry spell is true, but it’s been my own choosing. I don’t get into relationships too often…and I never jump into affairs.”
“Then I guess making love at the top of the art museum stairs is out of the question?”
“Be serious,” she said, giving him a backhand to the chest. “Now that Ray seems to have landed a client for the Morris flag, he’ll hear the details of the auction way before I do. He’s much better connected. We’ll need him to believe who you say you are so he’ll share the info.”
“Or maybe he won’t say anything. That way his client can walk away with the flag.”
“Not likely. He takes a commission based on whatever the final hammer price is. He’ll want to win it, but his style is to push the price up every penny that he can. He has no loyalties to anyone but himself.” She pulled her car into the parking lot a block away from her building. “We want him buying your cover, but the problem is that Ray doesn’t think that I’m capable o
f landing someone like you. And he’s right.”
She wasn’t talking about the job, and this made his temper flare up.
“Just because you think Ray or your father might not appreciate you, that doesn’t mean you should trust their judgment. I mean it, Ellie. Look at who you are and what you’re accomplishing with your life.”
Ellie shut off the engine, undid her seat belt and sat back, staring straight ahead. “Helen told me everything she knows about you. You’re an FBI special agent, a man with an Ivy League education and a law degree, a man with medals for bravery.” She turned to him. “As much as I like to sweep the truth about my past under fancy carpets, I don’t kid myself. I’m the daughter of a crook, a forger. My mother was a club dancer who couldn’t get away fast enough when I was born. I didn’t go to college. I didn’t even finish high school. I only got my GED when I was twenty-five. I was a thief, Nate. I stole, I lied, I cheated as a teenager to survive. I’ve only recently realized that my biggest accomplishment in life has been my ability to make an honest living. But these days, I even question that, because Ray was the one who helped me to get started. He bought that house for me. He helped me stock my antique shop to get started. He introduced me around. You don’t build an honest life on dishonest foundations.”
She leaned her head back and stared up at the dark ceiling. “I have no guilt about dealing with the rich people in this town. They can be whatever they want. They can spend their money however they want. I don’t have to get emotionally involved. Even with men like Donald, the guy I went out with the other night. I don’t have to put any of myself into a relationship with someone like him.” Tears were rimming the edges of her lashes when she turned to him. “But with you…I’m scared…because I know I don’t match up.”
“I can’t believe you.” He cupped her chin. “Ellie, all of us have a history. All of us have stuff that we’re not too proud of. Stuff that haunts us, even. We all make mistakes. But the smart ones…the strong ones…learn from them and go on. Our lives are not carved out of stone. Our lives are putty that we shape every day.”
“Easy for you to say. Your life is perfect.”
“Is it?” Nate wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek. “In spite of what I said, I understand how you feel, because feeling guilty is part of my life, too. And that one happens to be my hang-up.”
“What do you have to feel guilty about?” she asked brokenly.
“Shooting and killing a fourteen-year-old.” He waited for her to retreat, but instead she cupped his hand against her cheek.
“That must have been horrible.”
“It was part of the job. It was either kill him, or five other people would have died…me included. But it still hurt like hell when I found out afterward that he was a kid. That was when I was promoted to a desk job. Because of that, and my knee.”
“Did the fourteen-year-old do that to you?” She touched his knee.
“Yeah. I was lucky that he was a bad shot. He was aiming for my heart.”
“Nate, even as a card-carrying antiauthority radical, I can see that you had to do what you did. He was in the wrong, and you had to protect yourself and those others. So there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about.”
“But I do,” he responded earnestly.
“Then you have to stop. You did what the situation required. Isn’t your motto something like Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity?”
“Very impressive. How do you know that?”
She smiled. “I read everything I could put my hands on about your organization in the years after my father was arrested and sent to prison. To hate something really well, I’ve always felt I had to understand it first.”
“And do you? Hate the FBI?”
“I thought I did—or at least I made myself believe I did. But since you’ve come into my life, my prejudices keep crumbling away beneath me.”
“We’re two of a kind.” He kissed her hand and then pulled her into his arms. She lay her face against his chest and let out a little sigh. Nate loved holding her. He was amazed by the way his thoughts and plans shifted and refocused whenever he was with her. She had the ability to make him step away from the past and look into the future. He hadn’t done enough of that in the past. “About our weekend getaway…?”
She moved out of his arms. “I’ll stay in and have Vic take all the calls. Ray doesn’t have to know that we didn’t leave town.”
“But we are going away.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are,” he said more firmly. “I’ve planned it out. This is all part of the job.”
She turned fully to him. “Nate, there’s too much going on right now for us to complicate our lives with…well, with…”
“Sex?”
“Yes,” she said. “Or any relationship beyond what we—”
“I agree wholeheartedly. This is a work weekend. I have to go up to Ticonderoga for half a day. I had a call today that McGill is showing signs of improvement.”
The lines of tension disappeared from her brow. “I’m glad.”
“At the same time, I want to do a little background checking on Teasdale, and I’ll need you for that.”
“No, you don’t. You know everything I know about the guy.”
“More reason for you to be there, because I don’t remember everything that you told me.”
“Liar.” She couldn’t hold back her smile.
“Besides, tomorrow is my father’s birthday, and there’ll be hell to pay if I drive past Saratoga without stopping at the house. And since my mother would never approve of us having sex under her roof, I figured it was safer all the way around staying with them for the weekend.”
Ellie stared at him without saying anything for several seconds. “You…you want me…to…”
“Stay with my family. They’re a well-behaved bunch, for the most part. My father is not all there, and spends a lot of time in the basement. My mother loves her animals better than my two younger brothers, who happen to be deadbeat bums. The three dogs and two cats run the house. We’re just an average all-American family.”
“No sex?” she asked shyly.
“When we were teenagers, my mother threatened us with bodily harm.”
“But there’s so much to do here,” she argued. “The shop—”
“Victor can handle it. We’ll come back after talking to Teasdale on Monday.”
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” she whispered to herself. “Okay. What time are you going to pick me up?”
Twenty
Saturday, June 26
“From day one, Graham,” Kent said adamantly into the phone, “I’ve always demanded that my people give me their best analysis of the facts, even if it’s different from how others in the administration might see those facts. But I’ve also insisted that the members of my team stand together when it comes to public displays.”
“I’m not part of your administration, Mr. President.” The voice from the other end was cool.
“I know that. But we’ve been in the same camp for years. If we have a disagreement, we need to fight it out inside the house. We don’t want to carry our debate to the court of public opinion. That’s not our way.”
“For the past six years, I have been doing my damnedest to give you good advice, but lately you’ve been looking pretty indifferent to anything I’ve had to say.”
“It’s the timing, Graham. The corporate scandals have hurt this country bad. These days, most Americans are tightening their belts. They’re not sure about their jobs—their future. Retirees have seen their pensions shrink to a fraction of what they should be. And we haven’t done shit about universal healthcare, even though it’s long overdue.” Kent swirled the Scotch around in his glass and placed it carefully on the coaster bearing the Presidential Seal. “In good conscience, I’m having a hard time allocating billions of dollars to a specific project simply out of loyalty to friends. But this doesn’t mean we have to drag it th
rough the mud in front of the TV cameras.”
“I have not spoken to the press.”
“But the advertisement you had released last night spoke directly to American people and made it sound like I was supporting it.”
“You’re not?”
Kent ignored the sarcastic tone and charged on. “And never mind the initial project. Now you’re going even further. The scope of this one is much bigger. The cost will be far higher than we’d originally planned.”
“The polls say the American people are in favor of it.”
“I know how polls work, damn it. The twenty-five people they called are in favor of it. But did you have to air it on every major network? And during prime-time slots? Jesus, you didn’t spend that much money on my campaign.”
“We spent enough to have you elected, Mr. President. And I’m afraid to say, some of those campaign contributors are concerned that those expenditures on your behalf were a bad investment.”
Kent paused for a moment. He wanted to make sure he got through to this guy and all his cronies. He, Ron Kent, was calling the shots. Nobody else.
“Listen to this good, Graham. I have a solemn responsibility to the people of this nation. The future rests on the choices I make. I’m not worrying about any short-term investments.” He pushed away from his desk and stood up. “You can tell those friends of yours that I’ve kept their fat asses out of trouble every chance I’ve had during my first term. I’ve always believed that a strong business climate means a strong America. My opponent in November is not so sympathetic to your cartel’s interests. So that means, I’m the man. Whatever course I decide on will be the course this country takes. If I say we’re not doing that Water for America project until I’m ready, then that’s the way it’s going to be. Your choices are simple, Hunt—stand in line or find yourself another boy. But stop trying to railroad me with this public relations campaign. Got it?”
The silence at the other end was profound. Kent waited, knowing Graham Hunt was not a man who was accustomed to being slapped down.
“It’s clear to me that you’ve chosen your course of action, Mr. President. Now we’ll have to choose ours.”
