Ryan’s wide smile indicated that Jamie had hit upon a very appealing topic. "Ooo … that’s a nice thought," she said. "You know, I don’t often think about the future in specific terms."
"Specific terms?"
"Yeah, like I don’t think of how many kids we’ll have, or what sex they’ll be, or things like that."
"I just think about one," Jamie said, "and she looks just like you." She tilted her head and kissed Ryan softly. "Jet-black hair and sky blue eyes, and big for her age. Long, long arms and legs, and a smile that could melt a glacier."
Ryan hugged her close and said, "I want to have a baby who looks like you. Those pictures of you when you were little are so precious. I love those pretty green eyes, that adorable little smile, those pink cheeks. I’d really love to give birth to a tiny little copy of you."
"Probably won’t happen, will it, sport?"
Patting her belly, Ryan shook her head. "I don’t think I have any blonde-haired genes in my arsenal, and dark hair is clearly dominant. I might be able to come up with some green eyes, though," she said. "That would be sweet."
"I just want to raise a child with you, Ryan. It doesn’t matter who he or she looks like. It’s just fun to fantasize."
"It is," Ryan said. "It reminds me that one day this will all fade, and we’ll be back to normal, too."
"So, how do you want to celebrate Christmas when we have our family? Any ideas?"
"Well, I know that I was very happy with the way my family did it. I’d be willing to copy the whole shebang. But we need to incorporate your traditions. What’s important to you?"
"Was Santa Claus big in your family?" Jamie asked.
"No, not really. I don’t remember ever believing, although I guess I did. How about you?"
"Oh, yeah," she said. "I’d still believe today if I could get away with it."
"Really?" Ryan said. "I didn’t know that about you."
"Yeah, oh yeah. I loved myths and fables. I’m sure I knew Santa was an allegory or a symbol from early on …"
"And knowing you, that’s exactly the verbiage you used when you thought about it," Ryan said, giving her a playful tickle.
Jamie sniffed at her. "Not quite, but you aren’t far from wrong." She patted her on the thigh, and continued, "Anyway, I loved to allow myself to believe. I hope our kids have the ability to conjure up a belief in something like that – something that represents hope and generosity, and the kindness of human beings."
"Well, the Irish are well known for their belief in fables and imaginary creatures," Ryan said. "I read once where something like 30% of the country believed in fairies."
"Cool," Jamie said. "With your fairy-believing genes, and my imagination, our kids will be completely ungrounded in reality."
"That’s not a bad place to be," Ryan said, wishing she had the ability to transport herself to the land that had no reporters.
Charles arrived around noon, looking frazzled from the media crush. "This has gotten so ridiculously out of control," he said, his face flushed with anger. "Can’t anything be done, Jim?"
"I’ve done all that I know how to do, Dad," the younger man said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.
"They’ve made a mockery of the First Amendment," he grumbled.
The unhappy five-some sat in the living room, speaking little until Catherine spoke up. "Look, we can either sit here and feel violated, or we can just ignore them. They can’t come into the house … and we’re not going out there … so let’s celebrate a little. The girls made it through an unbelievable ordeal … they’re safe and whole … Isn’t that a cause for celebration?"
"It most certainly is," Charles said. "Catherine’s absolutely right. Let’s not let the vultures ruin our day. Actually, it’s so nice outside, let’s have our dinner outdoors. We might feel less cooped up that way."
"Great idea, Charles," Catherine said. "I don’t know how Jim did it, but the helicopters have miraculously disappeared." She gave him a look that was a mixture of gentle disapproval, and fond regard. "I’ll ask Helena to set the outdoor table."
"How about a walk in the garden while Helena and Marta get set up?" Charles asked Jamie.
"Sure, Poppa. I can’t guarantee that we won’t be strafed while we’re out there, though. I don’t hear anything now, but …"
"I can handle it," he said, draping his arm around her shoulders, "as long as they won’t bother you."
"No, I’m all right with it. It’s a little nerve jangling, but they don’t bother me that much." They walked outside, leaving Ryan to help Marta in the kitchen, which seemed to calm the frazzled woman a little.
Blessedly, the helicopters were nowhere in sight, causing Jamie to let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," she said, lifting her eyes heavenward. "Ryan might be able to calm down a little."
"She doesn’t look well," Charles said. "Frankly, that surprises me. I view Ryan as being utterly resilient."
"Normally she is," Jamie said. "But something about the incident is really terrorizing her, Poppa, and I can’t figure out what it is."
"Well, I can think of a number of things about it that would terrorize me," he said. "She wouldn’t be human not to be very, very disturbed by the entire mess."
"Of course," she said. "But it’s more than that, Poppa. She’s more upset than I am – significantly more – and that worries me. She doesn’t seem like herself."
"I would tend to agree, sweetheart. Maybe it’s time to seek some professional help."
She rolled her eyes, saying, "I’ve broached the subject a few times, but she’s not buying. I’m going to wait and see how she is when we return from Eleuthra, and if she’s not better – I’ll blindfold her and drag her to a therapist."
"Well, now that we have Ryan’s future planned, let’s talk about yours," he said, smiling warmly. "How are you feeling, honey?"
"Mmm … about like you’d expect. I’m not sleeping well, I’ve been having nightmares, I’m easily irritated, and I feel like buying a machine gun and moving down all of the reporters who followed us down here. But other than that, I feel pretty good," she said, smiling back at him.
"For what you went through, I’m pretty amazed by how well you seem to be handling it. I’ve been worried that you were repressing all of your feelings, but it doesn’t seem like you are."
"No, I’m really not," she said. "What happened was horrible, Poppa, but I feel good about what I did in response. Does that make sense?"
"I think so," he said, nodding. "Tell me more."
She took in a breath, pausing before a stately pink camellia bush that she had always admired. "I think I handled myself very well, Poppa," she said quietly. "I did something that was very brave, and I feel good about myself for doing it."
He wrapped his arm around her and gave her a very gentle hug, remembering that her ribs were sore. "As I told you last night, honey, I’m enormously proud of you. You were only concerned with Caitlin and Ryan’s safety, and that’s a terrifically selfless act."
"It was," she said, "and I take solace in the fact that I did everything possible to protect both of them. If I’d frozen and let them take Caitlin I don’t think I’d be in very good shape, no matter how it turned out in the end. I was put through a crucible, Poppa, and I feel like I did very well. Knowing that has helped me get through the last two days. I don’t have any regrets – all I have to deal with is the trauma of what other people did to me."
"I understand," he said. "Knowing that you did everything possible to save yourself and those you love has to be very reassuring."
"It is. I think the knowledge that I can trust my instincts will get me through a lot of tough times, Poppa. I feel like I’ve grown up a little in the past few days – like I’m more of an adult now."
"You’ve been an adult for a while, Jamie," he said. "The last few days have merely underscored what a competent adult you are."
When the table was set, the group moved outdoors. The warm sun and moderate temperatures helped ever
yone relax, and soon they’d nearly forgotten about the pack of reporters still baying at the front gate. Jamie decided that she should put in a call to her father’s sisters, and brought out her new cell phone to do so, then realized that she didn’t have either of them programmed into her directory. Jim didn’t have the numbers memorized, but Charles had his small address book in his suit jacket and he provided them.
Ryan listened as her partner spoke to the women, neither of whom she knew much about. Jamie had received Christmas cards from both of them, and when Ryan handed them to her she had commented that she didn’t recognize either of the names or the addresses. A flash of guilt had struck Jamie when she realized that she knew Ryan’s uncles and aunts, and even some of the aunts' extended families, while Ryan had never even heard her mention her own aunts' names.
It wasn’t that Jamie didn’t care for her family; she just hadn’t been around either of her aunts much, and knew very little about them. Her aunt Barbara was four years older than Jim, and she lived in Kansas, where she taught high school English. She had never married, but Jamie knew she had a long-term boyfriend. Barbara traveled during her summer vacations, but she had never managed to stop in San Francisco during her frequent travels. In fact, Jamie had seen her aunt approximately three times in her entire life, and she wasn’t sure she could pick her out in a crowd.
Jim’s eldest sister, Jean, was seven years older than he, and lived in Chicago. She and her husband, Robert Spencer, had two sons, Mark and Chris, both of whom were older than Jamie. She had met the family several times, the last occasion when Chris got married two years earlier, but they had never been close, either.
After Jamie spoke to each of the women, Jim got on the phone to wish them each a Merry Christmas.
While Jim was speaking, Catherine said to Jamie, "I heard from nearly all of the members of the Dunlop clan yesterday, honey. They were all appropriately horrified about the carjacking and send their regards."
"That’s a pithy summary," the younger woman said, chuckling.
"I’d be happy to go into an extended recital of their comments," Catherine said. "But I can’t imagine that you’d like to hear it."
"No, thanks," Jamie said. "I can only imagine that you got a long lecture on the evils of the lower class."
"Something like that," Catherine said. "You uncle David thinks you’re mad to drive yourself anywhere, so he in particular thinks you were asking for trouble merely by being in a car without an armed driver."
Jamie turned to her partner, her mouth curled into a grin. "What do you think, honey? Should we hire a full-time driver?"
"Sure. I’ve already shown I can hang onto the roof of a car, and I’ll need to when you and the driver take up both seats in the Boxster."
After some persuasion, Catherine had agreed not to buy gifts for the girls, but Jim wasn’t a party to that pact, so after he got off the phone he brought out a few boxes, neatly wrapped.
Jamie ran into the house and brought out the few small things she had purchased for her father and grandfather, and they opened their gifts, sitting by the pool with the warm December sun shining down on them.
Ryan was surprised and pleased to open her box to find a set of stainless-steel chef’s knives. She removed one of the beautifully balanced blades and stared at it for a long time.
"Wow, that’s gorgeous," Jamie said, giving her father a smile.
"When I was at your house for dinner I noticed that Ryan was left handed, and I know that most knives are made for righties," he said. "I checked around, and found a Japanese company named Global that makes some of their professional knives in a left-handed model. If you’re going to cook, you need to have the right tools," he said.
Ryan gave him a broad smile and said, "As nice as these are, the bigger gift is that you noticed I was left handed, and tried to buy me something to make my life a little easier. I really appreciate that, Jim."
He blushed a little under her praise, but managed to maintain his near-casual air. "Oh, it wasn’t a big deal, Ryan. I just hope you enjoy them."
"I will," she said. She got up and went over to his chair, leaned over and kissed him lightly, smiling at the slightly stunned look on his face. "Thank you."
"Y … You’re welcome," he said, his face now bordering on crimson.
Taking pity on her husband, Catherine said, "Your turn, Jamie. Maybe you have a matching set for right-handers."
"Oh, I don’t need knives," she said, wrinkling her nose at her partner. "Ryan’s doing all of the cooking from now on."
Jamie opened her gift, discovering a complex-looking digital camera – made for underwater photography. She looked at it in wonder for a moment before her father said, "I thought you’d enjoy being able to take some pictures while you’re in the Bahamas. I can’t imagine you two won’t be snorkeling every chance you get."
"Oh, Daddy, this is so thoughtful!" Jamie said. "Thanks for remembering how much I love photography."
"I can still smell the chemicals coming out of the bathroom in the pool house," he said, recalling the darkroom his daughter had set up when she was in high school.
"I’ll send you some pictures from the Bahamas if we take our computer with us," Jamie said as she rose from her chair, and walked around the table to kiss her father.
"I can’t think of a better time for the two of you to get away," Charles said, still anxious about the hovering media.
"Yeah, I’m looking forward to getting down to North Carolina," Ryan said. "I think this is mostly local media that’s been following us, so it should die down once we’re gone."
Jim was quiet during the last few minutes of their conversation, and he got a knowing look in his eye as he said, "Sitting out here has given me an idea. Let me make a phone call, girls. I may have figured out half of your problem."
He returned a few minutes later, looking very pleased with himself. "An unmarked police car will pick you up at the rear service gate whenever you wish to leave," he said.
"I didn’t think of the back gate!" Jamie said.
"Back gate?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah … for the gardeners, and access for the tennis court and pool maintenance services. The good news is that the gate is on another road, and that road doesn’t pass by the house."
"Excellent!" Ryan said. "Now it’s time for me to make a few calls." As she got up, she surveyed Jamie’s outfit and said, "For my plan to work you’re going to have to change clothes."
"Change clothes?"
"Yep. My plan involves a little fence climbing."
She turned and walked away, leaving Jamie to roll her eyes. "I think I like your half of the plan a little better than Ryan’s, Daddy."
Dinner was finished by three o’clock, and the young women decided that they should get going … hoping that the mid-afternoon timing would catch some of the reporters by surprise.
Ryan had packed their gifts in one of Jamie’s backpacks, but they left everything else at the house so they would be unhindered during their adventure. They stood by the upper gate in their sweats and their running shoes as they waited for their ride. "Are you sure that you’ll be all right?" Catherine asked. "I’m really very concerned about you traipsing through people’s back yards."
"I spoke to everyone involved," Ryan said. "These are friends as well as neighbors, Catherine. They’ll protect us."
"All right," she said, wrapping her daughter in a hug. She looked up at Ryan while she held Jamie and said, "I don’t know why I worry. You’re proven to be a very competent bodyguard."
"She is that," Jamie said, sighing deeply.
The police car pulled up, and after an emotional farewell they took off for the city, both young women dropping their heads down below the level of the windows, just in case. "I’m starting to feel like we’re the lesbian version of Linda Tripp and Monica Lewinsky," Ryan muttered.
"I might feel like I deserved the scrutiny if I’d been having sex with the President or taping my phone conversations with my friend,"
Jamie grumbled, her voice muffled by her contorted position.
"I doubt it, but I get your point," Ryan said.
"We’re on El Camino Real now, ladies," the officer said. "I think you can sit up." They both did so, with Ryan spending a long time stretching in her seat, the awkward position obviously hard on her muscles. "So, how are you both feeling?" he asked.
"We’re fine," Ryan said. "Happy to be going home."
He turned around briefly and gave her a winning smile, asking, "What was it really like up on that roof, Ryan? Jesus, that was the bravest thing I ever saw a civilian do."
She smiled thinly at him and said, "I lived it once, Officer. Once was enough."
The police officer dropped them off at a small house two streets from the O’Flaherty manse. Ryan ran up to the front door and rang the bell, smiling when an elderly man opened it. "Hi, Mr. Regan. Ready for the mad dash?"
"Come in here and let me take a look at you, Siobhan," he said, pulling her in and giving her a hug. "I never see your pretty face around the neighborhood. I don’t even see you running any more. What’s become of you?"
"Well, I’m in school over in Berkeley, so I’m not home very often. I’m on the basketball team at Cal, and I do most of my exercising over there. Not much time for running any more."
"Basketball team, eh?" he asked. "Are you ever on the television?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, our game against the University of North Carolina is on Fox this weekend. Call my father and he’ll tell you what channel that is, okay?"
"Will do, Siobhan," he said. "Now who’s this shy little one?" he asked turning to Jamie.
"This is my partner, Jamie Evans," Ryan said.
"She’s your partner in taking those dirty thugs off the street," he said, his watery blue eyes narrowing.
"That too," Ryan said. "We’d better get going, Mr. Regan. The boys will be outside by now."
"All right, girls," he said, leading them through his small, cluttered house. They got to the back door, and he hugged them both. "You two take care of yourselves. And you can use my yard any time you wish."
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