Alice galloped along at our heels.
Once we ducked behind it we were out of view of the house.
“It was only Chris.”
“Who?”
“Chris.”
“Who’s Chris? I don’t know any Chrises.”
“Chris. The dog-walk guy.”
Sean’s brow folded.
“We walk our dogs together.”
“Georgie?” Chris’s voice came from the direction of the house. “You okay?”
“He must have seen me chase Alice up the stairs.”
Sean grabbed my hand for just a moment. “Go home. Be careful. Meet me tomorrow; walk at dusk. Wear dark clothes. I’ll find you.”
Hidden from the house, he disappeared around the far side of the pile before I could say anything. I scrambled after him, but by the time I could take a peek, he’d gone.
As I rounded the pile, I saw Chris standing in the opening for the sliding glass door, staring down at the ground.
“Hey!” I waved an arm.
He looked up. Saw me. “You okay? I saw you come in here. Didn’t see you come out.”
“Alice chased a squirrel into the house. They really should lock these things up when they’re working on them.”
He made the jump to the ground. Then he walked through the side yard and down the street with me, back home.
* * *
“Georgia Ann? Is that you?” My mother’s words were accompanied by the click of her heels, and she soon appeared from the dining room. “I was just doing a little tidying up and I went into Sam’s room. Did you know he didn’t make his bed?”
“He doesn’t know how, Mom.”
“You were three when I taught you that!” She blinked at me, put a hand to her hip, and gave me a once-over. “What happened? You’re a hot mess!”
Coming over, she put a hand to my chin and turned my head to pick something out of my hair. Tsking, she held out a tuft of dried grass.
“I, uh—” I put a hand to my head, feeling for more. “I fell.”
She licked her thumb and used it to smudge at something on my face. “You all right?”
No. “Yes. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine.” I shied away from her touch, trying for a smile. I’m not sure it worked. “I’m fine.” Doubting I could pull off nonchalance, I tried a different tactic. “So! Where are we going for dinner?”
She stood there looking at me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your color. And your eyes are puffy. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She flapped a hand toward the couch behind me. “Go on and sit down. I’ll bring you some tea.”
* * *
“So I said to him, I said, ‘Sergeant, I don’t care what you can’t do, I’m only interested in what you can.’” My father was regaling Sam with stories from his past. I was pretty sure a military career wasn’t going to be in Sam’s future, but Sam never passed up a chance to hear a story. Not even those he’d heard before. My father chuckled as he shook his head. He glanced around the table to make sure we were listening.
My mother and I had heard it a million times, and I was mulling over what Sean had told me, but Sam was rapt with attention. He picked up a piece of Korean-style fried chicken and started pulling meaty strands of it from the bone. That’s what we’d decided on for dinner: takeout.
“And do you know what Sergeant Conway said? He said, ‘Then I don’t think I’m going to be of much interest to you, sir. Because I can’t get the phone to work.’ Can you believe it? There we were, trying to fight a war, and I couldn’t have gotten an order if I’d wanted one because the phone wouldn’t work!” My father wiggled his eyebrows at Sam.
Sam obliged by giggling.
“Wait. Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Sergeant Conway. Do you remember what his first name was?”
“Started with . . . an M? No. Started with a P. Pete? Pat?”
My mother surprised us by answering, “Paul.”
He blinked. “How do you remember things like that?”
“Because the first hundred times you told the story, you used his first name too.”
“Huh.” He gave Sam a wink. “So there we were, sitting in the middle of the desert, stuck tighter than a hair in a biscuit . . .”
My father continued, but I didn’t hear him. The only thing I could think about was Paul Conway. That’s why the name had sounded familiar. I’d been hearing about him for years.
“Peach?” My father had fastened his eyes on me.
“Hmm?” I’d been trying my best not to talk. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth the words SEAN IS ALIVE would leap out before I could stop them. Right then I was afraid I’d babble something about Paul Conway too.
I forced my lips into a smile instead.
“Got any intel on dessert?”
“Dessert. Right.” I collected the plates and took them with me into the kitchen where I put them in the sink. I retrieved the carton of ice cream from the freezer and took it out to them.
My mother frowned. “Bowls?”
I blinked. “Yes. Sure.” I went back into the kitchen, but by the time I got there I’d forgotten what I needed. Sean’s revelation kept running through my head in a loop. I think something happened out there in the desert. Something that shouldn’t have.
The thing was, the actions of my father’s company were widely known. My father talked about that night all the time, just like he had with Sam. He wouldn’t do that if something odd had happened.
Unless he didn’t know about it.
Bowls.
And spoons. That’s why I was there.
I got them and returned to the dining room. Then I scooped the ice cream and handed out the bowls.
“Do you keep up with anyone from your company, Dad?”
“Which one?”
“The one from the desert. The one you were telling Sam about. Anyone like Paul Conway?”
“From E Company?” He thought for a moment. “Can’t even remember the last time I talked to anyone from there. Probably that History Channel retrospective. The twenty-five-year anniversary show, maybe? But that was mostly people from the headquarters level; it wasn’t any of my troops.”
“Would you ever want to see any of them again?”
“What? People like Conway? Sure.” He winked at me. “I’d even buy him a beer. Ask him how life’s been treating him.”
I tried to ignore the chill that crept up my spine. “They were good guys, then?”
“The best. Never served with any better.”
32
Being the sole recipient of his grandparents’ attention that evening tired Sam out. He went to bed without any problems.
As I came back into the living room, my father stood and unfolded a blue T-shirt with a flourish and held it up across his chest. “I brought you another one, Peach.”
“She doesn’t want another T-shirt, JB.” My mother was shaking her head.
I read the words. “Quantum Entanglement Is Neither Here Nor There.” I smiled. “Good one.”
He balled it up and tossed it to me. “You can never have too many T-shirts.”
“I kind of think I might. But thanks.” My wardrobe of pithy physics-themed shirts was entirely due to him.
He was the first to admit that he knew nothing about physics, but whenever someone asked about me, he’d say, “Georgie? She’s a genius. Don’t know where she got it from, but it’s true.”
He sat back down in Sean’s old chair.
My mother got up. “I’m just going to powder my nose before we leave for the hotel.” She passed by my father on her way.
He reached out for her. “Best thing I ever did was marry you.”
She bent down, took him by the chin, and kissed him. “Don’t you ever forget it.”
“Like I could.” He kissed her back and then sent me a wink. “You’re always reminding me.”
She straightened. Laid a hand on his shoulder and sent me a glance. “Can you believe this man didn’t know a butte
rfly from a boutonniere when I first met him?”
He took her hand. “It was in first grade.”
“Well. It’s been my life’s work, but I think all those rough edges are just about buffed off.” She ruffled his hair and turned to walk away.
He pinched her on the butt. “All but the ones you like.”
It used to be that I was both profoundly embarrassed by and incredibly proud of my parents. Who else had a mom and dad who looked like Ken and Barbie? And who else could say their father was a general and their mother was a no-kidding beauty queen? However, it had been embarrassing in the extreme when they kissed in front of my friends, or when my mother wore her fur coat to shop for groceries.
In college, incredibly proud had evaporated, leaving only profoundly embarrassed. It wasn’t cool at the time to cheer America’s swagger on the international stage. And when your professors were grappling with new theories of light and matter, beauty pageants just seemed so trivial.
By the time I met Sean, I was swinging away from embarrassment and back toward proud. To have two parents who took care of themselves just as carefully as they took care of those around them? Who were still deeply in love with each other? The more I’d seen of the world, the more I’d realized just how rare they were.
But I was a grown-up with a son of my own. And I knew that people weren’t good or bad. People were people. They were good and bad. All of us had weaknesses and strengths.
My parents’ strengths were many.
Ever since I was old enough to notice, my parents had been tirelessly, relentlessly patriotic. Military-themed symposia, panels, seminars? My father had been part of them. Visiting professor, cultural ambassador, talking head? He’d done all that too.
And my mother had been at his side the whole time—comforting military spouses, cajoling Congress for more support for veterans, and fundraising for myriad nonprofits.
If there was good to do in the military community, they had done it.
Their weaknesses?
Appearances seemed so important to them. But considering who they were, wouldn’t appearances have to be important? In order to advocate for others, to present yourself as an expert in something, you had to be a person who could be trusted, didn’t you?
Even I didn’t wear yoga pants and my Physics—I Can Explain It to You but I Can’t Understand It for You T-shirt to customer meetings.
Sometimes their squabbles became heated. And my father could be a little controlling.
But all couples experienced friction, didn’t they?
Even Sean and I had had our moments.
Moment.
And part of the job description of a general was to control.
Knowing Sean, there had to be something behind his suspicions. If he said something happened in my father’s company, then something probably had. The question was, why didn’t my father know about it?
* * *
Sean was alive!
The moment my parents pulled out of the driveway, I said the words aloud. I whispered them to myself. “Sean is alive!” Okay, I might have more than whispered them. Alice’s ears pricked as her head swiveled toward the door.
I was every emoji on my phone, all at the same time.
Ecstatic that he was alive; mad that he had let me believe he was dead for so long. I still didn’t understand why he’d done that. But as soon as he could clear up what had happened during the Desert Sabre project, we could get on with our lives.
I heard a whisper in the back of my mind, but I was too busy exulting over Sean’s appearance—planning how we would let Sam know and figuring out what to say to people like Jim and June—to listen.
Sean was alive!
It wasn’t until I had slipped into bed and turned off the light that the volume on my exultation was turned down enough that I could finally hear.
Sean was no choirboy. Trouble followed him for most of his youth. If he thought something had been going on, then experience said he was probably right. And what had his instinct always been? What was at the core of his character? The desire to protect the ones he loved. Sean would have left us only if he thought he had to.
33
The next night Sean found me walking past an ivy-covered wasteland in a dip along the road that no streetlight could reach and no window seemed to overlook. I’d invited Jenn and Preston for dinner earlier in the week. Considering that Jenn was going through a tough time with her divorce, I hadn’t wanted to cancel. But when they arrived, I asked her if she could keep an eye on the boys while I took Alice for a walk.
Finger to his lips, Sean led me through the vines to the far side of a decrepit old shed that was falling apart at the back of the property. Alice yipped and did a joyful two-legged dance as Sean tried to quiet her.
I put a hand on his arm. It was solid. Real. He was real. And I didn’t want to be hiding in the shadows. I wanted to walk down the street with him and take him home to Sam. It made me angry that I couldn’t.
“I still don’t understand any of this, Sean. We had a funeral. You were cremated.” Someone was cremated. “After you left that voice mail message, I thought I might be making you up, that I was having a breakdown.”
“No, Georgie.”
“How did you leave that message?”
“It was a caller ID spoof. I didn’t want to do it that way, but I needed to talk to you. I was going to ask you to meet me, but then I got interrupted.”
“What is this? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to find out.”
“Then what do you know? You’re saying someone was worried about you finding something out. You’re also saying you didn’t find anything out. You’ve got to give me something. Something to think there was a reason you’ve been dead for eight months. I cried real tears for you. My heart broke for you. Sam can’t sleep because of you. I want to know there’s a reason why.” My tone was sharp. My fists were balled. I took a step back, consciously uncurled my fingers as I waited for him to reply.
He turned away from me, ran a hand through his hair again. Turned back. “Here’s one thing I can tell you: the Iraqi Republican Guard didn’t have any defenses in the area where your father was.”
“But they had to have been there. He made a breach through their lines.”
“I know. And he destroyed an arsenal of top-of-the-line weapons. It’s all documented.”
“Maybe those Iraqis were originally somewhere else. Maybe their new location just hadn’t been logged.”
“That’s what I thought too. I might still be thinking that, sitting at the table in our house drinking coffee every morning and walking my son to school, if someone hadn’t intervened.”
“Do you know Sam thinks you’re still alive? He thinks you’re in a wormhole somewhere and that at some point you’re going to—” My emotions had overcome my capacity for words. My throat closed. I took a deep breath. “Have you seen Sam since you died? Have you talked to him?”
“No. Why would I—”
“Why didn’t you talk to me? Why haven’t we done this before now?”
“Shh.”
I lowered my voice. “Why didn’t I know any of this? I’m your wife! I thought we were in this marriage together.”
“We are. I just couldn’t—”
“You do not get to walk out the door and leave. Not without telling me.”
“Why would I have left you if I could have stayed?”
“I don’t know. But you destroyed our family, Sean. Whatever this is, you let it in and then you left.”
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve wasted eight months trying to get over you, telling myself I should move on, trying to fix myself by reading— I’ve been reading nonfiction!”
“I know I should have—”
“I am beyond mad at you.”
“Georgie.”
“What have you been doing for the past eight months?”
“
I’ve been disappearing. Covering my tracks. Trying to stay alive. And I’ve been trying to figure this all out. I have been reading every book about the war, watching every interview, tracking down every article I could find. And I’ve been trying to stay out of sight at the same time. And keep an eye on you. And make enough money for food and somewhere to stay. None of it’s been easy.”
He was telling the truth. I could read it in the slant of his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes.
“Someone ransacked the house. Tore it all apart.”
“Someone ransacked the—”
I held up a hand to preclude his questions, because I had questions of my own. “Do you have any idea what they might have been looking for?”
“They were probably looking for information. My notes?”
“What were you doing in the crawl space the other night?”
“You were gone the weekend before—”
“My parents took us to the beach.”
“—and the first night you were gone I noticed activity. There was someone in the basement. Someone in the crawl space. I wanted to see what they’d been doing.”
“They tried to wire your computer.”
“I know. I know what they’ve been doing. What I still don’t know is why.”
34
Dark energy was at work again. Sean didn’t know who he had provoked or why, but we knew he’d happened onto something that mattered because of the reaction that had occurred. Something invisible was at work and it was powerful.
“Tell me about work. Your files were accessed. Things disappeared from the archives. Someone was following you.”
“They had me write up my research. And once they had all my materials, they transferred me to a different job. Out of the army. It was straight DoD. They sent me to the Pentagon.”
State of Lies Page 12