by Tinnean
Just then, my son began fidgeting, and she handed him back to me. “Mother, I’m going to give Quinton his first riding lesson.”
“Certainly, Portia. Let this little man have his first taste of horseback riding.”
“But he’s just a baby!” Johanna exclaimed.
“Oh, I’ll be holding him. I’m sure once you and Bryan have children, he’ll have them up on a pony at an early age.”
She seemed to turn pale at that, but perhaps it was simply the light.
“I’ll see you at dinner, Mother. Johanna.” And Quinton and I strolled to the stable.
* * * *
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Bryan.” I nodded to Ogilvie, the head groom. “I ran into Mother and Johanna.”
“Ah.”
“I’ll get the horses, Mr. Bryan.”
“Thanks, Ogilvie.” Bryan pushed himself away from the fence he’d been lounging against. “Let me take Quinton until you get yourself mounted.”
“You’re just using that as an excuse to hold the baby.”
“I am.” He smiled as he took his nephew in his arms and cradled him, humming softly under his breath. He was going to make the most marvelous father. Not as marvelous as Nigel, of course, but…
“Here you go, Miss Portia.” Ogilvie led out my chestnut mare.
“Thank you. Hello, Penelope. Have you missed me?” She rubbed her nose against my shoulder, and I offered her a sugar cube I’d brought with me. I patted her neck, gathered the reins, and stepped into the stirrup. Once I was settled in the saddle, I leaned down and took Quinton from his uncle.
Bryan mounted his brown gelding. “Which trail, Portia?”
“Let’s take the one to the Christmas tree plantation.” I sat Quinton before me and held him secure with my arm around his little body. “Mother is quite enthusiastic about it, and I’m interested in seeing how they’re progressing.” A couple of years before she’d decided we should grow our own Christmas trees, and she intended one eventually for Rockefeller Center if it grew large enough.
“Are you really going to tell Nigel what Father had done to Marlowe?”
“No. I’ll simply inform him that Father dealt with the matter.”
“And he’ll let it go at that?”
“Why shouldn’t he? It’s not as if I were lying to him.”
“I really am sorry—”
“Enough, Bryan. That was fifteen years ago.”
“Yes, and you were only fifteen. I should have—”
I nudged Penelope close enough to him so that when I freed my boot, I could kick him. “Enough, I said. You verbally eviscerated him when you overheard him laughing over what he’d done. And considering what Father had done to him, it added insult to injury very nicely—I always thought so. So can we just put a stone on this?”
He stared into my eyes, then smiled and nodded. “All right then. Tell me, little sister. What did you think of Johanna?”
“She’s lovely, and she seems to be a very…devoted mother.”
“Yes, she does love her children.” He sighed. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get her away from them today.”
“Oh?”
“They were supposed to visit their other grandparents, but they hadn’t left when I arrived to pick up Johanna, and they pitched such tantrums. I swear I have no problem with her putting her children before me—well, not much of a problem—” He grinned ruefully. “But the way she lets them dictate to her…” He swore under his breath. “Forget I said that, please. She is a devoted mother, as you say, and that’s what’s important. She was devastated when Bill was killed in Vietnam.”
“I’m very sorry for her loss.” A few messages had come across my desk when the Buddhists were trying to gain concessions from President Diem. I didn’t like him, but Southeast Asia wasn’t part of my job.
“Bill was a great guy. I was in their wedding party, you know.”
“Don’t tell me you fell in love with her then!”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight.”
“Well, I guess that it was a good thing.”
“Yes. It would have been problematic, otherwise.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since Bill’s passing? Almost two years.”
“You’re the first man she’s dated since then?”
“Yes.”
I could understand her being protective of her children, but…
“I knew you’d love her!” Bryan had misread my silence. “She’s so gentle and caring.”
“As long as you love her, Bryan, and she loves you.” I wasn’t going to ask if she was his one. He was marrying her.
“Do you want to trot?”
“I’d love to, but I promised Nigel I’d keep Penelope to a walk.”
“Do you mind if I let Artichoke gallop?”
“Go ahead. I can see he’s been restless for the past five minutes.”
He threw me another rueful smile, touched his heels to his gelding’s side, and took off.
“See how well Uncle Bryan handles his horse, sweetheart? One day, that’s going to be you!”
* * * *
“What’s bothering you, darling?” Nigel asked as we got ready for bed that night. We’d gotten the discussion of Marlowe, the burr under my saddle, and what Father had done to him out of the way when we’d spent some time with Quinton before dinner, so he was aware it wasn’t that.
“I don’t like her.”
“You concealed it very well.”
“Of course I did.”
He chuckled and kissed my cheek. “What was it about her that you disliked?”
“She comes across as so helpless.” And so catty. It made me grind my teeth in irritation.
Nigel and I joined the family in the parlor for before dinner drinks. Bryan was talking with Mother and Father about the guest list for his wedding.
“Manhattan, darling?”
“Yes, please.” I joined Johanna, who was standing alone. “That’s a lovely dress.”
“Thank you. I was about to say the same thing about yours. I’m so jealous!” She looked me over, seeming to be fascinated with the triple strand of lavender pearls I wore around my throat. “You certainly got your figure back quickly. It took me forever after little Billy was born.”
“My job keeps my active.”
“How can you bear to work and leave your precious baby at home?”
I could hardly tell her that at times, national security depended on the work I did.
Nigel rejoined us and handed me my drink. I angled my body, and in an action that was only visible to him, pursed my lips and blew him a kiss.
“Nigel, don’t you want your wife waiting with a drink and dinner ready for you when you get home?”
“I’m very happy with everything Portia does for me.”
“That’s very unconventional.”
Nigel and I exchanged smiles. “But conventional can be so very ordinary.”
“Yes, of course.” She gave him a vague smile. “If you’ll excuse me?” And she went to Bryan.
Now Nigel said, “Not everyone can be you. And I mean that as a compliment.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He brushed a quick kiss across my lips. “And did you ever stop to think that her helplessness might be exactly what Bryan is looking for?”
“I suppose that’s possible. I’ve never met anyone he’s dated before now.”
“Will you talk to him?”
“No.” He seemed determined to marry her. “It’s not my business.”
“Your father approves.”
“He would. He wants a grandson—”
Nigel coughed. “May I remind you that he has one?”
“With the Sebring name,” I clarified.
“Ah. Let’s go to bed.”
“In a moment, darling. What did Father want to talk to you about?”
“I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that.”
“That’s highl
y unlikely.”
“Yes, but I could hope.” He tipped my chin up and looked into my eyes. “He noticed the love bite I placed on your throat.”
“Bryan said as much earlier.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Have you heard me objecting?”
“Well…no. However, your father isn’t happy about it.”
“I’m sure you’ve observed by now that he and Mother haven’t the warmest relationship.”
“That’s what he wanted for us.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “In that case, he’s destined to be disappointed.”
“He worries it might distract you.”
Suddenly it was no longer amusing. “Has he had any complaints about my work? Has Tony said anything to him?”
“No.” But he looked as if there was something more he wanted to say.
“Nigel?”
He smiled and shook his head. “You’re right. He is destined to be disappointed.” He kissed me and caught my hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
* * * *
Chapter 10
By the end of that summer, I found my heart was no longer in my work.
It was the police action—the diplomat’s term for war—that did it for me. Vietnam took all the excitement, the satisfying feeling of matching wits with our opponents, out of intelligence. Nigel watched me with sad eyes as I told him I was handing in my resignation.
“If this is what you want, darling.”
“Father is in Chevy Chase right now. I’d better give him a call and let him know I need to speak with him.”
One of the deals he was brokering must have turned out well, because he was in a very cheerful mood. “Yes, of course, come for dinner. Your mother is here.”
“You’d better ask Tony to come also.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said absently, and I hung up before he could ask why my oldest brother needed to be there.
The drive took us less than half an hour. Nigel gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as we entered the house.
Except for Jefferson, who was on assignment in Europe, his partner, and Bryan’s wife, the entire family was represented.
“Well, what’s going on, Portia?” Tony scowled at me. “You’re not going to tell us you’re pregnant again, are you?”
“No. I’m leaving.”
“Mann?” Father demanded.
“Yes?” Nigel raised an inquiring eyebrow.
Father made an impatient sound. “You’re leaving Mann, Portia?”
Bryan looked stunned and Tony ambiguous.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, Father.”
“Mann’s leaving you?” Father’s expression was an odd combination of disappointment and satisfaction.
Nigel stared at the three of them as if they’d lost their collective minds. “No, I am not leaving Portia! Holy good God, how could you think such an idiotic thing?”
“In that case, who is my sister leaving?”
“Not who, Tony. What. The NSA.” I handed him an envelope. “This contains my resignation.”
“Mann, you’re not seriously allowing this!”
“Mr. Sebring, I’m Portia’s husband, not her master. It’s Portia’s decision. It always has been.”
“But she’s one of the best—” Tony started to say, but Nigel interrupted him.
“No, she’s the best. And she’s had enough.”
“You never did see life beyond the job, big brother,” Bryan murmured, but I didn’t think Tony heard him.
“Now, now, there’s no need to be hasty,” Father said, using a soothing tone of voice, as if I were a fractious mare. “Let’s talk this out.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Father.”
“Portia—”
“Enough, Anthony.”
We all turned to stare at Mother, startled not only by her unexpected appearance but by her words. She never interfered.
“You had no problem when she told you she was willing to join you and her brothers working for the government.” She came to stand beside me. Of course she didn’t put an arm around my shoulders—not that she would have—but she was siding with me, and that meant more than physical contact ever could. “Accept her decision now.”
I found it extremely interesting that my father immediately backed down.
“Bryan, why don’t you say something?” Tony demanded.
Bryan raised an eyebrow. “I have more than enough on my plate dealing with my wife and her children.”
Mother studied him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Bryan, if you didn’t wish to get married—”
“Nonsense, Mary!” Father spluttered. “Everything was planned! The church, the country club…LBJ even hinted he and Ladybird might drop by!”
“But they didn’t,” she said ironically, and he flushed and subsided. “Now then, Bryan—”
“It’s nothing more than settling into a new situation, Mother. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
I knew he’d had plans of moving to a big house in the county, but Johanna’s mother had offered them the house in Baltimore that had been in her family for more than a hundred years, and Johanna dug in her heels—that was to say, she pleaded very prettily—so they lived there instead.
There was an old saying about love being a matter of give and take, but it seemed to me that my brother did all the giving and his wife all the taking.
Still, it had been his choice.
“If we could get back to the topic at hand?” The look on Tony’s face was indecipherable, but before I could question it, he growled at me. “Portia, you can work from home if you’d like.”
“No.” Nigel answered for me, although I could have answered for myself. “She wants out of this.”
Tony was at a loss. “Can I at least call on you…?” He gave an exasperated huff as I shook my head. “What will you do with your time?”
“Raise my son? Do charity work?”
“Do you really think you could be satisfied with something so—”
Mundane? “Mother has, for as long as I can remember.”
He bit off what he’d been about to say when he caught her gaze on him. She could be quite formidable.
“I’ll help you, Portia,” she promised. “I can provide you with the contacts you’ll need, and there are your Tau Zeta Epsilon sisters as well. I’m so pleased you went to Wellesley. That will impress those Washington matrons!”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Father muttered under his breath, “All those contacts she made while in London. Shot to—”
A glance from Mother silenced him.
“Dinner is served, Mrs. Sebring.” Plum stood in the doorway.
“Thank you. Shall we dine? Anthony, kindly restrain your choler before you give yourself indigestion.”
I was uncertain to whom she addressed those words, but both my brother and father responded.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Yes, my dear.”
Nigel cleared his throat and took my arm, and we went into the dining room.
* * * *
I worked for various charities, taking up where Mother left off. There were the very public ones, which I either chaired or sat on the boards, and there were the ones that were less publicized but which needed funding all the more, the inner-city Family Planning clinic, the soup kitchen in Anacostia, a shelter for women trying to get out of abusive situations.
And gradually it was forgotten that I had once deciphered Russian codes for the Venona Project.
* * * *
Nineteen sixty-eight was the year of assassinations: Martin Luther King, Jr., Bobby Kennedy.
It was the year Tricky Dick was elected to the presidency, and Nigel shook his head. He worked for the country, not the man, however, and he continued doing his job.
Quinton was given his first pony, a fat little Shetland he named Darling.
* * * *
Nineteen seventy-two saw the start of the Watergate scandal. Ni
gel knew, and it broke his heart.
Quinton took home his first blue ribbon.
* * * *
Nineteen seventy-four, and Richard Nixon became the first U.S. president to resign.
Quinton and I watched as his grim-faced father reduced a target to tatters.
* * * *
Nineteen seventy-six was the bicentennial of the United States. Two hundred years of freedom.
Nigel spent that Independence Day with us, and he marveled at what an accomplished horseman Quinton had become. “We’ll see him in the Olympics yet, darling!”
* * * *
Nineteen seventy-seven, and two weeks before Christmas, Nigel was sent on an operation to India. “I should be home by the New Year, darling,” he said as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his overcoat and picked up his suitcase.
“You’ll be careful?”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Of course.” This was his career, just as it had once been mine. I kissed him there, because I wouldn’t kiss him outside the house—we had our reputations for being cool and restrained to uphold—and followed him to the cab waiting at the curb.
Before he got into the cab, he took my arm, pulled me close to him, and brushed his lips over mine.
“Nigel?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
* * * *
On New Year’s Day, 1978, an Air India Boeing 747 crashed near Bombay, killing all two hundred and thirteen on board.
Nigel was among them.
* * * *
Chapter 11
“Nurse! NURSE!”
Nigel? Darling, why do I hurt all over? Did we have our baby?
“Please, Mr. Mann, you’ll disturb the other patients!”
“Fu- I don’t care about the other patients! My mother is crying! She never cries!”
Quinton. What…? Ah. The accident. Was I dying? Shouldn’t there be a white light and Nigel waiting to greet me?
Warm, dry fingers encircled my wrist. “Her pulse is a little fast.” Something cool was placed around my upper arm and pumped up, constricting the muscle. “Her blood pressure is a little high also, but nothing to be alarmed about, considering the situation. Please try not to worry, Mr. Mann. She’s progressing exactly as she should.”
“I don’t want her to be in pain!”
“Of course not, but she still hasn’t fully emerged from the effects of the anesthesia.”