“Janet, I...”
“No, this isn’t the time for this discussion.” Her hand came up, palm out. Seeing the familiar gesture, he wondered if she had ever directed traffic. “We shouldn’t talk about it anymore...for now.”
He shifted, adjusting in his seat. Her eyes flitted everywhere in the restaurant but toward him. With deep compassion, he gently touched her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” She finally made eye contact, her tears close to the surface. “What are you sorry for, Morgan?”
He released her. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“Then don’t.”
What could he possibly say to make this easier?
“I have no doubts that I love you, Morgan,” she said in a firm tone. “I also understand that you’re not there yet. Sometimes love takes time to grow. It will for you. I’m certain of it. We have a lot in common. We both love the law. We’re stay-at-home types, we like the same movies and books. Please, give our relationship a chance. You owe me that.”
She’d brought up a truth that he’d been unable to, the need for love in their relationship. Janet had more courage than he did. As much as she could admit to loving him so openly, she also deserved to be loved. Completely, without reservation.
He took a deep breath. This was going to be hard. “We’ve known each other a while now, Janet,” he said softly. “If we’re not in love today, we won’t be tomorrow.”
Her head snapped back as if he’d slapped her.
His heart shuddered at the pain in her eyes.
She dropped her napkin on the table and stood. “I have to go to the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”
Morgan stood, too, as she stomped away. He slowly sat back down. Had he actually done that? Torn both his and Janet’s future apart? He’d done what his grandfather had repeatedly made him do to all his school friendships. Ripped them up with each move to a new base. Something he’d sworn never to do as an adult.
After ten long agonizing minutes, he realized Janet wouldn’t be returning. He paid their bill and, to be on the safe side, asked a waitress to check the ladies’ washroom. Janet wasn’t there.
Once outside, he checked along both sides of the street. It was busy with pedestrians and vehicle traffic. A tow truck pulled up. Someone must have double-parked.
Where could she have gone? Back to work? No. She wasn’t in a fit state for that. The tow truck had hooked up a vehicle and was pulling away from the curb. Only then did Morgan realize it was his Ford being towed.
“Wait,” he shouted, waving frantically to the driver. “That’s mine. What’re you doing?”
“Sorry, bud,” the driver said leaning out his window, “you’ve been busted.”
The tow truck pulled away ignoring his calls to stop. The grinning diver saluted him before turning the corner.
A car honked at Morgan to get off the street. He stepped off the road, stunned as the traffic flowed by. He never double parked or broke any laws. He was even careful to never get a parking ticket.
People were bumping into him so he retreated to the edge of a building and leaned back, resting on the wall.
“Morgan!” Brenda Clay hurried toward him. She carried a shopping bag in one hand. Her hair was immaculately styled.
“Hello, Brenda,” he said, glad to see a friend.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
As with her husband, he could never hide anything from her. “Nothing,” he said. “Not a single thing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He tilted his head back and laughed. “I’m not lying. I feel better than I have my whole life.”
“Why?” Brenda appeared suspicious.
On impulse he grabbed her and lifted her off the ground, shopping bag and all. With little regard for her newly styled hair or the people around them, he swung her around, delighted with life.
Brenda ordered him to put her down. With her feet firmly on the ground, she insisted on knowing what happened.
“My car was towed and I’ve broken up with Janet.”
That silenced her.
Seeing her concern, he put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I caught the name of the towing company before the vehicle turned the corner. I can pick up my vehicle later. As for Janet, this break up is for the best. I shouldn’t have let it go as far as it did.”
“What brought about this sudden revelation?” she asked. “Phoebe?”
He shrugged. “She may have hastened the end process, but it would have surfaced on its own in time.”
“Or you might have married and lived happily ever after,” Brenda said, poignantly.
Morgan shook his head. “I hate to admit it, but I might have married Janet, but we wouldn’t have lived happily ever after. I would have wondered if there was something else out there.”
“What would that be?” she asked, with deep skepticism.
He tucked her arm through his and they strolled down the street. “Someone I could love as much as your David loves you.”
Chapter 6
Phoebe woke up to her cell phone buzzing on the bedside table. It was still dark outside. The court case was scheduled for three this afternoon.
The cell buzzed again. She sat up and blindly reached for her phone, switching it on.
A text from her university contact. He had completed the Tamil-to-English translation. Pleased, she switched on the bedside light, put on her glasses and read his interpretation.
His words tracked closely to what she had already translated, making her proud she’d done it correctly. Their near-identical versions also gave her confidence in his work on the phrase that had stumped her. She sat back and released a sigh. She’d done the right thing in keeping this letter a secret.
This meant the letter had nothing to do with her mission. It was simply a love letter. The wife had written to her husband-to-be about her love for him and her hopes for their future. How it ended up in the loft, buried amongst bags of rice, was a mystery.
Profound relief washed over Phoebe that she hadn’t disrupted that family’s life or placed them in unnecessary jeopardy. She texted her thanks to her translator and slid out of bed. Still in sleep shorts and a tee shirt, she padded barefoot over to the window and looked out at the starlit sky. With this last work duty completed, she was free to leave her work behind. Was she truly ready?
Her most recent mission had been an exciting one. For months she and her partner, Matt, had been tracking the whereabouts of a flawless, rich, cornflower-blue sapphire called the Trincomalee Eye. The jewel had been an ancient gift from a Sri Lankan king to an Indian emperor as thank you for helping him with an insurrection. The palm-sized jewel, worth millions, was scheduled to be displayed to the public during a Buddhist ceremony at the end of the month.
Two weeks from now.
Problem was, the stone had been stolen last Christmas and was currently rumored to be on sale on the dark net. The Indian government had yet to admit the Eye was missing and were desperate to recover it. When they heard US backers were about to purchase the Eye from a recently squashed terrorist group in Sri Lanka, they sent an SOS to the US government. Conroy put Phoebe and Matt on the case.
Their latest promising lead drying up had been a huge blow not only to Phoebe and Matt, but to the Indian government, and to Conroy. Her boss had been counting on a successful international mission, and the subsequent increase in good relations between the US and India, to garner a plumb promotion. He hungered for a fiercely contested prize - Assistant Director of Operations of the CIA.
All irrelevant to Phoebe now. What mattered was that the Sri Lankan family was safe, and she was back home to focus on her family. The joy that realization brought cemented her decision to leave the Company.
Recovering the jewel would now fall squarely on Matt’s shoulders. He was a good agent. She had every confidence he could handle the job and find the missing sapphire. If he did, Phoebe was prepared to allow Matt and Conroy to take the credit, despite the
months of research and tracking she’d been involved with.
She sent her second text to Matt, suggesting the intel they received about that Sri Lankan family’s involvement with their case was suspect and that their source was worth reviewing. She mentioned the letter she found in the loft that turned out to be nothing more nefarious than a love letter. She suggested someone had tried to use her and Matt. Finding out why might give Matt a new clue as to who truly had stolen the Eye.
She ended with, “Be careful, you’re on your own now.”
There, now she was ready to settle down back home with a clear conscience. Hopefully, her new path would help mend some fences with her cousin, and the rest of her family. As for Morgan, fate would decide if they had a future. She couldn’t imagine Janet giving him up without a fight. In her shoes, Phoebe certainly wouldn’t.
She took a deep breath for courage and thumbed her third and last text on the matter. She contacted Conroy about her intention to retire. She prayed he would let her go on friendly terms. She might need his help with her arraignment, if the court case went south today.
Once she’d sent that last text, her brain froze with panic, as if she’d eaten an ice cream that was too cold. She returned to bed and lay down, waiting for her panic to recede. Next time she woke up, it was past daybreak. She dressed and raced to her parents’ room to confess she was moving back to town, and hopefully to this house, if her family would have her.
At their door, hand raised to knock, she hesitated. Her father would be thrilled, but what if her mother wasn’t? She could move out but she would prefer to stay at home. At least, for a while, until her plans for the future were firmed up. She needed time to think and plan her next move. Exercise always stimulated her brain cells. She lowered her arm and veered her steps toward Grandfather Walter’s room instead.
He was thrilled at her invite to accompany her to the gym. Once there, Phoebe worked on weights while the trainer on staff introduced her great-grandfather to the bums-of-steel workout and washboard abs sit-ups. He valiantly modified his efforts, and ended up being a surprising hit at the recreation center as he shouted out comments like “bunions of steel” and “washboard flab.” Later, the two of them returned home exhausted and ravenous.
After lunch, to get Zen-centered until it was time to go to court, Phoebe shifted aside the coffee table and lay on the carpeted floor to do yoga stretches. Aunt Helen was up in her room with a DO NOT DISTURB sign out. Phoebe was unsure of her mother’s whereabouts. Grandfather Walter circled the room with his walker.
Her father, who had a rare day off work, was settled in an armchair and had dropped deep into a World War II biography. "Congrats on taking first place in the rose show yesterday, Dad."
He glanced up from his book, looking pleased by the compliment. "The coppery-orange English Tea Rose wins me a lot of prizes."
Phoebe nodded absently. There was a note of pride in his voice, and rightfully so. The Hybrid Tea Rose was one of his best roses and had the most divine scent.
"I hear Brenda's to appear as a character witness for you and Helen today," Grandfather Walter said as he rolled by.
Her father ducked his head behind his book at the turn to this dangerous subject. Phoebe didn’t hold out much hope of her mother showing up in court on her behalf either.
“Watching the door won’t bring your mom in,” Grandfather Walter added.
“What?” Phoebe looked over at him, with one of her legs held straight in the air.
“Watching the door won’t bring her in,” he repeated.
“Who said I was watching the door?” she asked.
“You’ve been checking it ever since we returned. You want to talk to your mother? Go find her.”
Her dad chuckled from behind his book.
“I’m not looking for her.” Involuntarily, her gaze slid to the door.
“Gotcha,” Grandfather Walter said, with a smirk.
The living room door slammed open and everyone jumped in surprise. The walker tilted alarmingly and Phoebe reached out to straighten it.
Her mother stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, and eyes sparkling with anger.
Her great-grandfather swore. “You almost scared me to death.”
“Sorry, Walter.” Her mother aimed her irate glare at Phoebe. “Time we talked.”
Phoebe cringed. What had she done now?
Her father stood, tucked his book under his arm and kissed his wife on the cheek. “You look lovely, Brenda. New do? Suits you. I’ve got work to do in the study,” he said and left.
Lucky man.
Grandfather Walter stayed put, eyes wide and curious.
“Outside,” Brenda said to Phoebe and stormed out the French doors.
“That’s it, leave the old man alone,” Grandfather Walter shouted after them. “I’ve got a right to know what’s happening in my own home.”
Phoebe followed her outside and found her mother pacing by the birdbath in the back garden. The area was secluded. Even the stone bath was empty. The birds had vacated the spot, no doubt sensing a storm brewing.
“Morgan just broke up with Janet,” her mother said.
Phoebe barely contained her whoop of joy. She toyed with a branch of cedar, with what she hoped was a “this hedge needs trimming” nonchalance.
“Have you nothing to say?” her mother asked.
“What do you want me to say, Mom?”
“Since you’ve been home, Helen has been arrested and now Morgan’s broken up with his girlfriend. What else have you planned? Walter enrolled in the marathon? Lenny returning to a life of crime?”
Her suggestions were so close to the truth, Phoebe blushed with guilt and then simmered with fury. “Grandfather Walter needed a bit of exercise,” she said. “He gets depressed when he’s too lethargic. Our outing today did him good.”
“Are you accusing us of neglecting him?”
Phoebe cringed. If anyone had done any neglecting, it had been her.
“What are your plans for Lenny?” Her mother paused, and added, “What about his little sister?”
“He’s a grown man,” she said in a cautious tone. As if she would ever hurt Molly. If what she and Lenny planned worked out, it could solidify that child’s future. It would give her a stable home life, one in which Lenny wouldn’t have to worry about where his next paycheck came from. “Lenny can make up his own mind about what he wants or doesn’t want. That’s not what’s upsetting you, though, is it? Morgan Harrington has you hot under the collar. Well, he, too, is capable of deciding for himself who he wants to marry.”
“Marry? Are you planning on marrying Morgan? If you’re serious about Morgan and not simply toying with him, tell me, and I’ll stay out of this.”
Did she want to marry Morgan? Did she plan to sleep with him? She hadn’t even kissed him yet. She didn’t know if she wanted to do any of those things. No, that was a lie. She had every intention of kissing Morgan Harrington. Where that would lead didn’t require her mother’s input.
“I’m not responsible for Morgan’s actions,” Phoebe said in a firm tone. “If that’s all, I need to get back to my stretching exercises.” She turned to leave.
“I’m not done. There’s one more thing.” Her mother waited until Phoebe turned around before she spoke. “At this moment, Morgan is more my son than you are my daughter. Don’t hurt him.” She then brushed by her.
Phoebe’s tears didn’t fall until long after the French doors were slowly and determinedly shut.
AT THREE SHARP THAT afternoon, Phoebe stood in the courtroom with Aunt Helen on one side and Morgan on the other. Her aunt wore a dark, long-sleeved top, buttoned from neck to waist, over a straight skirt that covered her knees. Her glasses sat primly on her nose and her short hair was in soft curls.
Phoebe, too, had on a dark suit and wore glasses but her hair was in a high ponytail. They probably looked like a pair of undertakers waiting for mourners to arrive. She should have worn blood-red. That colo
r would have matched her mood. A glance to the other side of the room, showed her mother sitting behind Tucker. Not a good sign, since her mother was ostensibly here to support her aunt and her daughter.
“Do you two realize the seriousness of the charges?” the judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor,” they both replied.
He nodded.
Once Phoebe and her aunt pleaded guilty, the case ended as quickly as it began. They placed themselves on the mercy of the court and the judge asked if the defence was ready to proceed with a sentencing hearing.
Morgan said they were.
During that process, there was only one slight hiccup, when the prosecutor asked her, “Ms. Clay, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m in product sourcing,” Phoebe said with a straight face, reciting her cover story. “For shoes. I check out factories around the world.”
Morgan, who’d been checking his notes, looked up with concern. When she’d mentioned to him during their disclosure discussion that she visited exotic countries in search of shoe manufacturers, he’d acted as if her story was far-fetched.
Her glance flicked toward the judge to gauge his reaction. No snort of disbelief, no arms crossing, no looking away from her in disgust. All things Morgan had done when she gave him her cover story during their private disclosure discussion. Good.
“Where do you live, Ms. Clay?” The prosecutor asked.
“I move around a great deal because of my job. Currently, I’m staying with my parents.”
“You’re here for a visit?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you invade Mr. Harrington’s home?”
“I believed he had possession of our missing family pet.”
“What made you think the cat might be there?”
“Gut instinct.” Aunt Helen’s gut instinct. Though, to be fair, while in the Tucker's house, Phoebe, too, had a strong feeling the cat was somewhere nearby. She trusted her instinct. It had led to the solving of many cases. It had also told her that Sri Lankan family whose house she’d invaded was innocent. The letter’s translation proved she’d been right about that.
Missing You Page 6