by Lia Conklin
Amelia stepped out the door to meet the reporters. She wasn’t sure how much she should say and then decided that she would be as forthcoming as possible. Anything that would help her fath…the cause for civil liberties.
She answered a plethora of questions, mostly corroborating the articles that had appeared in the New York Times. She also shared her personal opinion.
“My father had sources from the Middle-East who helped him get information about the 2005 London bombing. But that’s as far as his connections went. Any ties he had with Al Qaeda, if he even had any, would have been to get information for his stories. He simply was a reporter doing his job.”
When they had driven off, Amelia took a deep breath and headed towards the living room. Her grandma was staring blankly into the television.
“What has my son gone and done now?” she asked softly.
Chapter 77
“Kingston’s,” Amelia announced answering the phone. “Mr. Goldfield. I’m delighted you called.” She nodded over to her grandmother, who looked up expectantly from a crossword puzzle that remained untouched.
It had been difficult for Amelia to share the events of the past two months with her grandmother. Not only was the information painful and confusing, she knew her grandmother would be resentful for having been left out. That was an understatement. Amelia tried to explain how she had not wanted to upset her.
“Since when does being old mean I deserve to be treated like a child?” Her grandmother had responded. “I’ve buried three children, a husband, a daughter-in-law, and a grandson. What exactly are you trying to protect me from? At least I could have done some damage control. I could have leaked a little of the story out to the gals so I wouldn’t be a leper to them now. Do you know why bridge and tea at the country club and brunch at the Governor’s mansion are so important to me? Because they distract me, engage my mind so I don’t have to think, to remember. Now even that is sullied. You should have told me.”
She had sulked away then to her bedroom. Amelia had let her go, not wanting to hear the crying she knew would follow.
But her grandma had softened somewhat by that afternoon, enough to say, “This must have been difficult for you, Amelia. I can see you’re strong like your father, but I hope a bit smarter.”
Now at the mention of Mr. Goldfield’s name, her grandmother had abandoned all pretense of doing the crossword puzzle. She had a vested interest in this conversation.
“You’ve identified the speaker?” Amelia repeated for her grandmother to hear. “I never doubted for a moment your expertise,” Amelia flattered him. “No, I’m not familiar with the name. Yes, I’m sure I should be. Yes, he did have a very distinct voice. So British-Pakistani. Al Qaeda. Yes, I am familiar with the London bombing. And the Liquid Bomb plot too? How do you know? I see. Arrested…okay. CIA…I see. Killed in 2008. Yeah, I remember how you mentioned those before. Yes, they sure do the trick. I really can’t say, Mr. Goldfield. Just journalism, I guess. Yeah, I agree. Not someone any decent American should be involved with. Couldn’t agree more. Thanks, Mr. Goldfield. Keep in touch.”
We’re almost getting to be buddies, Amelia mused as she hung up the phone. Talking about the CIA, FBI, Al Qaeda. Yep, just like ole high school chums. And even though she got the answers she needed, they were far from the ones she wanted.
“According to Bull,” Amelia began reporting back to her grandmother, “I mean Mr. Goldfield, he’s been identified as Rashid Rauf, a dual British-Pakistani citizen. He was arrested in August 2006 as a suspect in a foiled terrorist plot to blow up ten transatlantic flights with liquid bombs. Apparently, a top CIA official traveled to Pakistan and had him arrested. He escaped in 2007 and was later killed by a US Predator drone in Pakistan in 2008. In 2012, Al Qaeda documents surfaced that verify his role in both the London Bombing in 2005 and in the foiled Liquid Bomb Plot in 2006. That’s who my dad was talking to.”
“Yep,” her grandmother sighed, almost nonplussed. “Pretty shady dealings, your dad had. Al Qaeda and liquid bombs. Not something I would boast to the gals at bridge about. ‘Did you know my son was good friends with high-level Al Qaeda leaders? A real pride and joy, my son.’ My point, Amelia, is that if he was willing to be involved with someone like that, I don’t think he much cared what, or who, he risked.” It was justified bitterness—the bitterness that comes with birthing a son and raising him to be a man that jeopardized his family and maybe even supplied the means to their deaths.
“I can’t help but feel the same way, Grandma. But maybe when we’re able to talk to him, we’ll know what really happened.
“Well, let’s just say his FBI interrogation will seem like summer camp at a country club when I have my turn with him.” With that she stood up abruptly and headed toward her bedroom.
Under lighter circumstances, Amelia would have pictured her grandma wagging her finger at her shamefaced son. But for this situation, Amelia put her in charge of his waterboarding. That was a better fit.
Chapter 78
Connie stared at the timeline Amelia placed in front of her. Neither of them could deny that Rashid Rauf fit neatly within its scope: April 2004-Abu Ghraib; May 2004-Beheading; May 2004 to June 2005-Journalist slump; July 2005-London Bombing; July 2005 to March 2006-Rauf as informant & Rauf’s threats; April 2006-Explosion; August 2006-Rauf’s arrest.
“It’s possible,” she finally surmised.
“If you think about what he said on the tape, it’s clear that he was giving information to my father in exchange for the publicity. He also thought my father was jeopardizing his operations. That’s motive. Finally, he loves to have people blow up things, so fits his modus operandi as well…Hello, Connie. Are you listening?”
“Angel,” she finally said, “I’m glad you have a plausible scenario. I hope that gives you some closure so you can move on with your own life. I’ve watched for over two months now on this great quest, but really, other than the money you found, where has it really gotten you? I mean you, personally? Sure, your dad probably has a little more backing to help him with his legal issues, but are you really going to put your life on hold until his issues are resolved? That may not be just months; it could be years.”
Years. Would she really have to wait years to confront him? She had followed all the leads she had, and now all she could do was wait and wonder whether the one person who held the answers would ever be able to provide them. So much for seeking the truth. No, so much for finding the truth. Seek she had. It would be cruel, she mused, if that were all I had been meant to do.
“It’s time to move on, Angel,” Connie crooned. “Make a plan for yourself. Go to school. Make some friends. Travel. You have your freedom now. Only your mindset is holding you in captivity.”
In a way, she was right, although she didn’t know about the baby on the way. Amelia could still do most of those things with or without a baby. She couldn’t convince herself, however, that she had accomplished what she had set out to do for her mother and for her brother. It was more than a mindset; she had made a promise. And until she made good on that past promise, there was little she could do to advance her future.
Chapter 79
Amelia came to learn that the future advances with or without one’s consent, so instead of fighting it, she became its somewhat willing passenger. In the months that followed, she finally got her driver’s license, to her grandmother’s great relief. She also listened to her baby’s heartbeat and counted his ten fingers and ten toes, as well as other appendages. She had grown fond of the lump that everyday took up more of her body and the space around it. She had frequent visits from both Connie and Toby, who both showered her with the gifts and attention her own mother would have loved to bestow. Her grandma, too, had not tired of nursing and coddling her, giving up morning brunches and afternoon teas. She hadn’t judged Amelia and had questioned her only once.
“Is he the father? That sad man who called for you?”
Amelia had nodded then turned away, her
tears falling as if they had never stopped.
“Amelia,” her grandmother had continued, “I hoped it was that lawyer, but since it’s not, wouldn’t it be just as well to follow your heart?”
She had looked up at her grandmother despite the embarrassing tears and shook her head.
“I’ve grown up, grandmother. I no longer believe in fairytales.” Then she paused to smile. “Only the wicked stepmother part, I guess,” she laughed wiping at her tears. She had shared bits and pieces of her Honduran childhood, just enough for her grandmother to sympathize but not enough for her to vow revenge.
“Are you sure there’s no room for fairy godmothers?” her grandmother had coaxed. “Maybe if you just followed it through? You did that for your father. Don’t you deserve to do it for yourself?”
Amelia had no answer for that—only sadness that kept her mute.
But that night she had dreamed. She had dreamed she was slithering upon his bed as if a viper. Her head a crown of silky black hair. As she neared her prey lying upon the bed, a hiss erupted from her long, thin lips. “C’mon, Donnie,” she had hissed. “Just one for old time’s sake.”
Her prey had opened his eyes, and through them they both recognized the viper. And as Brenda’s venomous fangs lowered towards Donovan, his shiny, dark eyes widened into discs that burst into shards of glass to scatter upon the rumpled sheets and the surrounding floor. Clutching his empty eye sockets, he sprang from the bed shouting, “No! Never!” Blind to the shattered glass that pierced his feet, he tripped over the empty beer bottles strewn across the floor and fell savagely to his knees. Amelia left him in her dream: he wailing her name, rocking back and forth on his knees upon the shards of his eyes.
It was an image she could not shake and for the first time she felt real doubt. What had happened that night? Had she gotten it all wrong? Was her grandmother right after all? If she could search for closure for her father, couldn’t she find it for herself?
Yet even the path to her father had stubbornly resisted her appeals, and as her baby grew, the information she sought did not.
Chapter 80
“Amelia!” She heard her name called from behind, and there was no mistaking its tenor. She saw, even before she turned to look, his tawny waves and lopsided grin. She could make a dash for it down the aisle, pushing her half-full cart with the wobbly wheel. Or she could feign deafness and casually finish the aisle she was on, leaving the cart behind to race from the store. Instead, she turned her head to greet him, even as her mind pictured her clumsy, but clean, getaway.
She had to admit her heart fluttered when she saw him. He was truly breathtaking. Though less tan than in the fall, the contrast between his skin and hair made both all the more alluring. And his eyes. She pulled the cart tighter against her middle, and keeping her back to him as he approached, she responded over her shoulder in kind, “Jonathon! What a surprise!”
That was an understatement. It would have been more accurate had she called out, “Jonathon! How mortifying!” Yet, she didn’t look half bad that day. A recent shower, a new outfit to replace those she had outgrown, and even a dusting of makeup. It wasn’t a total catastrophe. All this she thought as she pulled the cart more snugly against her belly.
In a moment he stood somewhat awkwardly beside her, halfway leaning in for a hug and halfway extending his hand. Had the cart not been there, a hug would surely have been the result, but instead Amelia extended her hand and tightly clasped his. He placed his other hand over hers as well and stared into her eyes in true delight, despite the awkward greeting.
“You look as radiant as ever,” he remarked. It was a funny choice of words given the current situation and Amelia couldn’t help but laugh.
“I appreciate the exaggeration,” she said through her laugh. “But I can truly give you that compliment with no exaggeration at all. I’m glad you’re well.”
“And how would you know that I’m well?” he quipped. “Who’s to say I haven’t been locked up in some crazy ward waiting for my heart to mend.”
She laughed again. “I doubt very much someone like me could ever set you back that much, Jonathon. I knew you’d be fine.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, Amelia,” he said more seriously this time. “You both underestimate yourself and overestimate me. But I am glad to see you again.”
“Me too, Jonathon. Really.”
As they looked at each other smiling, Amelia thought for a moment that she had managed to escape the mortification she had dreaded. But instead of the goodbye she expected, he said,
“You know, you do look different. Happier, maybe? Yes, there’s definitely something different about you.”
She may have been able to keep up the charade long enough to avoid detection, but suddenly she just wanted it over.
“I think you mean fatter,” she replied, stepping out from behind the cart, no longer willing to hide the truth that he deserved to know.
The shock on his face couldn’t have been more evident as he took in the bulge of her belly. Not only was he at a loss for words, he seemed to be at a loss for breath as well. Amelia stood waiting for him to gain composure, color rising to her cheeks as his gaze finally broke away from her belly to look at her face.
It wasn’t quite a smile that found his lips and it definitely didn’t reach his eyes, but at least he tried for a modicum of humor.
“So…you roofied me?”
“I know,” she sighed. “It’s a shock. It was for me, too, when I found out. It wasn’t something I had planned. It wasn’t anything I imagined could happen.”
“I think you know how it could happen,” he blurted, and then recovering added, “When did you know? How long did you know?”
She had dreaded this question, but here it was. With a sigh, she forged ahead. “I found out a few days before we went to the cemetery together. I wanted to tell you, but…but…I don’t think I really believed it myself.”
“All I remember,” he said this time with bitterness in his voice, “was telling you that I was falling in love with you. And you basically telling me I was too good for you. I took that as an assumption of my arrogance, a critique I didn’t believe I deserved. Had I known this,” he said gesturing to her belly, “I would have walked away knowing it was simply the truth. It looks like I am too good for you.”
It stung, but Amelia didn’t doubt she deserved it. None of it had been planned. None of it was fair, for either of them. And even if it had been something less catastrophic than carrying another man’s baby, like having a dad connected to terrorists for example, her circumstances would always have tainted his.
“I’m sorry, Jonathon,” she said closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “None of this is how I would have planned it.” She smiled sadly. “Our relationship would have been a lot different had it been up to me.”
“Don’t be so fatalistic, Amelia,” he admonished. “We all have choices. I just don’t agree with yours.” It may have been the tears that began to pool in her eyes, but suddenly he softened and reaching for her hand he said, “I don’t mean to be cruel. I guess I’m just really surprised …and angry. I think what I really want to say, what I really feel is that I had the right to know. Ultimately, the result would have been the same. You’re right. I wouldn’t have gotten past it, but at least I would have known…”
“That you dodged a bullet,” Amelia finished for him.
He laughed sadly. “That’s not exactly what I was going to say, but yeah. I wouldn’t have had any illusions about what could have been. It’s not that I deserve someone better than you, Amelia, but maybe someone in better circumstances. Life is hard enough without inviting the unexpected to your door at every turn. Hell,” he laughed with actual mirth this time, “you had me turning in circles with one revelation after another. I think this last one is just a bit of overkill, wouldn’t you say?”
“I know,” she agreed, trying to laugh as she swiped tears away with her free hand. “That’s why I ended it.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to keep some of my dignity. But ultimately,” she said with regained composure, “what’s important is that I’m in love with this baby growing inside me, whatever the circumstances.”
Jonathon nodded and giving her hand a squeeze said, “I wish you the best, Amelia. For you and your baby. I truly do.”
They exchanged a long sad smile until Jonathon reluctantly let go of her hand and walked back down the aisle and out of the store. Amelia looked at her half-full (or was it half-empty?) shopping cart. She didn’t have the energy to finish her list, but somehow, with one foot in front of the other and one wobble of a wheel after another, she worked her way toward the check out and back into the reality of her life.
Chapter 81
Connie was visiting Amelia again, and Connie, who had hated shopping her whole life, was presenting Amelia with yet another gift for “Angel Baby,” as Connie had taken to calling the growing bump of Amelia’s stomach.
“You have to stop this!” scolded Amelia. “Before you know it, you’ll have to mortgage your home just to keep this little boy in trendy duds.”
“I know your mom would have loved to do this for you and Angel Baby. It’s the least I can do, considering I’m the next best thing! Now isn’t that sad,” she said smiling sheepishly at Amelia, “I’m the next best thing. You truly are unfortunate!”
Amelia whipped the onesie she had just removed from the bag at Connie. “The only thing that makes me unfortunate,” Amelia complained, “is that my baby is going to be dressed a lot snazzier than I am! Maybe my ‘next best thing’ to a mother should start getting clothes for me.”
“That would be no fun,” Connie proclaimed. “They don’t make cute onesies in your size.”
Their laughter was interrupted by Connie’s cell phone that began chirping some inane tropical birdcall. Connie’s eyes got big as she looked at the caller ID.
