The Mission

by Naomi Kryske

Perhaps she should return the C. S. Lewis book to Esther Hollister and ask for her suggestions. Because Esther believed that people had relationships with books, she liked to encourage what she called the “get acquainted” stage in her bookstore. Accordingly, her shop was cozy, with plenty of places to sit comfortably. Esther liked to get to know her customers, believing that in the long run that made everyone happier, she with more sales and her customers with the confidence that they were welcome to browse as long as they liked.

  In the past books had helped Jenny to see beyond herself and her experiences. She smiled, thinking of Esther telling her, “I’m certain you can find some friends on my shelves.” She grabbed a sweater. She’d take Bear for his walk, have a light lunch, then spend the afternoon with Esther. No, first she’d have another cup of tea and try to talk herself out of checking the doors and windows again.

  Hoping to see Jack again, she guided Bear past Parliament Hill to the paths near Highgate. He was there, with his grandfather this time, the remains of a picnic spread between them. Jenny introduced herself to Mr. Dunaway, who appeared to have been the primary consumer, and then spoke to Jack.

  “Bear and I are glad to see you.”

  Jack looked at the dog and then at Jenny and frowned slightly.

  She laughed. “I bet you’re wondering why I call my dog, ‘Bear,’” she said. “Because after my husband was killed, that’s how big my sadness was: bear-size. It helped me a lot to have a dog. Do you want to know why?”

  She saw a slight nod. “Because I can talk to him and I know he won’t tell anybody. Would you like to try it?” She stood and gestured to Jack’s grandfather to step away with her. “Bear, stay.”

  She and Mr. Dunaway watched Jack from a short distance. After a few minutes, Jack lifted his hand, and Bear began to wag his tail. Jack froze, but Bear nudged Jack’s hand with his nose and continued wagging until Jack stroked his head.

  “He needs a dog, doesn’t he?” asked Mr. Dunaway.

  “It might help,” Jenny agreed. “But ask the animal center to make a home visit before you take Jack to choose one. Otherwise they might not let him bring the dog home right away, and that would be awful.”

  Bear’s head was now resting in Jack’s lap, and Jack was bent toward him. Jenny couldn’t tell if he were speaking: She couldn’t see his lips. There was, however, the ghost of a smile on Jack’s face, and that made her smile.

  “Could I – about your husband – ” Mr. Dunaway stammered, running his hand through the few strands of hair that remained on his head.

  “He was killed last year,” Jenny answered. “It was sudden and a terrible shock. We didn’t have any children, and I had pretty much given up on life when a friend took me to an animal center north of London. None of the cute, lively dogs appealed to me. Bear had been abandoned, and he seemed as lost as I was. We needed each other, and having something to take care of has made a difference in my life.” She again thanked Nick in her mind for pulling her back from the brink and stepped closer to Jack, in case her information had made Mr. Dunaway uncomfortable.

  “Jack, would you like to give Bear a snack?” she asked. “I have some in my pocket.”

  Jack hesitated briefly before opening his hand, and Jenny put a small bone-shaped treat on his palm.

  “Bear, say please,” she said, and the dog gave a short bark before nibbling what Jack offered. Jack’s smile widened. Jenny glanced quickly at Mr. Dunaway, who had taken a handkerchief from his pocket and was blowing his nose.

  “First smile since,” he choked.

  Jenny knelt down. “Jack, Bear and I have to go now, but I’ll see you again soon. Okay?”

  Jack nodded, and Mr. Dunaway touched her shoulder briefly before turning to the boy. “Let’s see what your grandmother would think about getting a dog, shall we?”

  Jenny waved to them both and headed to Waterstone’s. An Italian/English dictionary and a workbook on verb conjugations would help her start her review of the language. And maybe she could find something appropriate for Jack.

  CHAPTER 7

  His name was Agabio. He had been the last to leave the table at Kosta’s, having spent the entire evening eating and drinking with the other patrons. He had noticed Alcina early on, or so he said. His friends had women to go home to, but he was in London on business and would be alone in his hotel room. He would be honoured if she would accompany him for an after work drink.

  She was tempted. His Greek name meant “of much life, with vigor,” and she knew in reality he was offering much more than ouzo. For many months she had been enlivened only by anger. She had felt like a soldier but not like a woman. Tony would not know what she did with Agabio. If she were careful, Kosta would not know. She had been sneaking the occasional illicit swallow of his alcohol for months now, and he had not discovered it. Now she was glad; the sips this evening had relaxed her, made her feel more attractive than usual. Released a hunger, however, she thought she had repressed.

  Agabio was not unattractive. His hair was as dark as Tony’s, but the resemblance ended there. Physically he was no match for Tony when Tony was at his best, but now no woman would look twice at Tony. Agabio’s wide shoulders and wide smile caused her to swing her hips and smile back. He was older than Tony, but he had been free with his money during the evening, treating his guests to extra drinks with enthusiasm and leaving her an unusually large tip.

  Later she wondered why she had done it, what had caused her to lose focus. He should have been christened Arcario, or “without grace,” because he had been clumsy from drink. He had seemed nice enough at the beginning, calling room service for wine and cheese and pouring her the first glass, even reciting a flowery Greek toast to her. The hotel room had been large and nicely appointed. His advances, however, when they came, had been less than polished, and the affable manners he had demonstrated at Kosta’s had deteriorated into brusque directives. Nothing she wouldn’t have done, but she did hate to be told what and how. Why had she thought that those big hands and thick fingers would be tender? He had satisfied himself but taken no steps to satisfy her. Attractive? No man was as attractive after sex as before. He had then fallen into such a heavy sleep that she suspected him of using more than alcohol.

  She had no intention of staying with him until morning. She had had enough of his coarse dominance, seen enough of his wide belly and what lay below it. The trains didn’t run this late, so she took some money from his wallet to pay for a cab. Nothing more than he would have given her had he been awake, she was certain.

  Rousing herself to arrive early at the bakery in the morning would be more difficult than usual. She had not been drunk, but she had imbibed more than she generally did and stayed awake longer. Why, she asked herself again, had she succumbed? His awkward, inconsiderate performance could be attributed to alcohol abuse, but her behaviour could not. She hoped his London business was complete, that he would not return to Kosta’s. She had no desire to see him again, in the restaurant or outside it. He was a reminder of her weakness at a time when she needed to be strong. It was dangerous to set anger aside, even for a little while. And if Tony no longer believed in her, it was essential that she believe in herself.

  CHAPTER 8

  “You’re looking well,” Neil Goodwyn remarked as Jenny admitted him to the flat.

  To help the time pass until she saw Simon again, she had invited the chaplain to stop by. Now he followed her into the kitchen while she heated the water for their tea. In the months immediately after Colin’s death, he had visited her often and was well acquainted with the contents of her cabinets. He set two cups on the counter.

  “I’m starting something new,” she said. “A relationship with Simon Casey. I’m not too sure about it, but he says he’s interested in me. Do you remember meeting him? He was one of my protection officers. The one who had been in the Special Forces before joining the police.”

  “Wasn’t he the young officer who was with you after Colin was killed? You’ve known him for so
me time then.”

  While the tea steeped, she took cream from the refrigerator for him and sliced a lemon for herself. “He was a medic but had to retire after a serious injury. Fortunately he passed the Met physical, though.”

  “I often worked with medics when I was a Royal Army chaplain,” Goodwyn recalled. “Sometimes I was only allowed as close to the front as their station. They never seemed to mind my prayers. And occasionally I assisted with some of their treatments.”

  “Why did you want to be near the front? Weren’t you scared?”

  He watched her prepare the tray and carry it into the sitting room. “I was the most frightened when I was near the front line but also the most useful. I never felt brave. I did learn how to say the world’s fastest prayers. And to pray when my mouth was dry! Often prayers were interrupted by gunfire, explosions, or screams. I learnt to pick up where I had left off.”

  She poured his tea first.

  “I prayed for soldiers I knew precious little about, to honor them, their service and their sacrifice. I was rarely able to follow up with them, however, because deployments – and lives – ended. There’s more balance in the work I do now because I can take the time to allow relationships to develop.” The cream he added to his tea cooled it, and he drained the cup quickly.

  “Was it a difficult adjustment, returning to civilian life?” He smiled, remembering. “It took time to realise I wasn’t in a war zone. I didn’t need to ride with a convoy to be safe, and long stop lights didn’t endanger me. Besides, it is so much cleaner here! The dust and sand soiled everything, and the desert was merciless, almost as hostile as the enemy. Storms brought stinging sand, rain, and sometimes even hail. I welcome the rain we have, gentle and cleansing.” He held out his cup for another serving. “Enough about me. Tell me about Simon.”

  “It’s silly, but I feel a little guilty, wanting to have a relationship with another man. My life with Colin was so short, and I can’t stop loving him.” She set her half-empty cup on the tray. “I’m two different people at the same time. I know I can’t bring Colin back, but I’m not sure whether I’m ready to leave him behind. If I can’t, then I can’t offer Simon a whole person. And I’m not sure I want to anyway, because he has a dangerous job.”

  Goodwyn smiled. Jenny’s disclosure had highlighted so many issues. “You’ll always love Colin, and no one will ask you to stop. Fortunately our hearts are big enough to have all sorts of loving relationships, because this new relationship doesn’t erase what you experienced with Colin. However, I believe you’re engaged in a sort of tug-of-war, because you know that Simon is vulnerable in spite of his experience and training. Jenny, there is risk of some sort in all relationships.”

  She laughed. “No kidding! I could use some advice, though.”

  “Your relationship with Colin didn’t develop overnight, did it? Give this one some time. The feelings we have for others rarely stay the same. You’ve had good reason to trust him. Like my soldiers, you’ve had to live life faster than many people. Now, however, you can slow it down a bit.”

  After he prayed and left, Jenny took Bear for a short walk. Because Brian was on the same schedule as Simon, she and Beth had planned to meet for dinner at the Café Rouge in Pinner.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Jenny took the Metropolitan Line north from Finchley Road and left the train on the sixth stop. She reminded herself to look for a white awning with a cherry-red storefront above it. The few outside tables and chairs were unoccupied.

  “Where’s Meg?” Jenny asked Beth, who had arrived first. The waiters were busy, and it was a few minutes before they were seated.

  “Staying with my neighbour,” Beth answered. “It’s her bedtime soon, and this way I won’t have to hurry home. Are you having your usual?”

  Jenny smiled. The Baguette Rouge, ribeye steak on a toasted bun, was her favorite. “No, I had beef this weekend. I’m going to order the chicken. Beth, you look wonderful. You’re glowing from head to foot.”

  “I’m 6-1/2 months along,” Beth said. “Always hungry, and you can tell I rarely deny myself.” She checked the blackboard for the daily specials. “Good – they have cream of asparagus soup today. I’ll have that and rocket salad with grilled chicken,” she told the waitress.

  Jenny ordered a glass of wine with her baguette. She was eager to tell Beth her news. “Simon and I – we’re dating, sort of.”

  “It’s about time!” Beth exclaimed. “He’s been mad about you for years.”

  Jenny blushed. How had she known? “You never told me!”

  Beth smiled. “There was no point, was there? You were in love with someone else.”

  The waitress brought her wine and Beth’s water. “Still, it can’t be true.”

  “Jenny, he’s been seeing you whenever he could as long as I’ve known you. Blokes don’t do that unless there’s an agenda. They don’t have women as friends.”

  Maybe that was why Colin had always been suspicious of him. “Those months in witness protection – we talked about a lot of things, and there were times when I felt really close to him. But he never said anything, and he’s had a whole host of girlfriends.”

  “He spoke through his actions. Besides, you were with Colin.”

  “What do you think happened with Marcia? He went with her for a long time.”

  Beth made room on the table for her salad and soup. The waitress went back to the dumb waiter for Jenny’s sandwich. “They were two people together for the wrong reasons, I think. She was on the rebound from another relationship, and he was trying to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with you.”

  In love with her? If that was true, had she been so wrapped up in herself that she was unaware of what was happening around her? She knew Simon’s standards, his drive, his likes and dislikes. They had transitioned easily from the witness protection relationship to friendship. How had she missed the point when that friendship had become something else? “He hasn’t said he loved me.”

  “Of course he does! The question is, how do you feel about him?”

  Jenny had barely begun on her baguette. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I respect and trust him. So many times he’s used his military knowledge to help me. But everything about this caught me off guard! First we were fighting, and then he was telling me about a raid that upset him, and then – ” She took a sip of wine and decided not to tell Beth about their sexual encounter. “He told me he wanted us to be a couple, and he explained his schedule to me. I always wondered why he was free at different times, and I didn’t realize Brian was gone so much. How do you stand it?”

  “I miss him, and he’s not home enough for me to be bored with him. I think it’s made us closer, because we really value the time we do have together. And on his off weeks, it’s our honeymoon all over again, except for those times when he’s called in, of course. And unless I’m still angry because I’ve hardly seen him for weeks and don’t want anything to do with him! Wouldn’t you love having a honeymoon every six weeks?” She laughed at Jenny’s obvious embarrassment.

  “Simon and I aren’t anywhere near that far along,” she protested.

  “Just don’t let him get away,” Beth advised. “You could do worse.” She paused. “There’s something you need to have a think on, however. On Brian’s ops weeks, he’s not even home long enough for a good night’s sleep. If you’re going to make a go of this with Simon, you’ll have to be willing to look after yourself a good deal of the time. Their work is stressful. He’ll need you to keep your end of things running smoothly. And it’s hard on Brian, not being able to be here if I’m having trouble. He wants to fix things, and I want him to, but he can’t. Many relationships – including marriages – don’t survive. One of Brian’s mates was married to a woman who resented his commitment to the Job. She paid him back by being unfaithful. I admit I occasionally resent the amount of time the Job takes. When we were first married, we had to start over sometimes to reconn
ect with each other. Not everyone’s cut out to be a copper’s wife, but you know that.”

  “I always believed in the importance of what Colin was doing, but it was still hard sometimes, dealing with the long hours he worked.”

  Beth nodded. “And odds on, Simon will be on duty on calendar holidays and special occasions. I’ve got used to celebrating my birthday on different days each year.”

  “Do you worry about Brian’s safety?”

  “More than he does, actually. He always tells me how well-trained they are. And he respects Simon. If I didn’t have my teaching and Meg to occupy me, I’d worry all the time. But there you go.”

  Stay busy, in other words, Jenny thought. That had been one of Dr. Knowles’ recommendations for dealing with grief. Clearly having a relationship with Simon wasn’t going to solve the problem of what to do with her life. After her visit to Waterstone’s, she had stopped by Hollister’s Books, but Esther had been away on a book-buying trip, so Jenny hadn’t been able to get any suggestions from her. Instead she’d walked through Keats House, feeling safer indoors than on the sidewalk and struck by the contrast between the brightness of the rooms today and how dark it must have been in Keats’ time, when it was lit only by candles. Keats had been worried about money, his health, and the success of his poetry, yet he had written some of his most beautiful verses while residing there. Proof that it was possible to rise above your circumstances, she supposed. The poet had fallen in love with Fanny Brawne; maybe a relationship with Simon was just what she needed. If it was a relationship. If she could be sure it was love. “Do you really think he loves me?” she asked.

  “Not a doubt. Now what’s for afters?”

  “Nothing for me.”

  “Jenny, I need a partner in crime.”

  “Then order a slice of pie, and I’ll take a few bites.”

  Beth summoned the waitress and requested the custard tart with strawberries. “Jenny? If you’re not going to finish your baguette, could I take it? When I get hungry later, it would be just the thing.”