by Tinnean
“Really? I had no idea!”
“Well, I could hardly drag him away from the reception, although I was sorely tempted.” Her voice became dreamy. “His lips looked so kissable…”
I’d never noticed, but that was a good thing. I was his sister, after all.
“…and he was a marvelous dancer.”
“I’d have loved having you for a sister, Allison.” So much more than Johanna. “And Tommy and Ian would have been Bryan’s.”
“Don’t tell him, Portia, but if he’d crooked his finger, I’d have gone with him anywhere.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“However did we get on this subject?” She was embarrassed, which I could understand. She took her vows seriously, even if her husband didn’t. “Let’s change it, if you don’t mind?”
“I believe I remember that son of hers,” Mother said with a chuckle. “He was a hellion.” I was pleased to have lightened the mood. “I seem to recall he created quite a bit of havoc at one of Quinton’s birthday parties.”
“Yes, he did. I swear we’d only turned our backs for a moment, and I still have no idea how he got hold of popping corn and threw it into the fireplace. It took Alyona forever to get the kernels out of the carpet. Allison offered to replace it, but I told her not to be silly, that at least he hadn’t set the curtains on fire. It was worth it. The children had such a fun time.”
She patted my hand. “You’re a wonderful mother. I don’t believe I’ve told you, but I’m very proud of you. Now, let’s see if we can find something to buy. Your father will be disappointed if I haven’t spent any of his money.”
* * * *
Saturday, I sent Quinton out with Gregor, and Alyona and I cleaned the house from top to bottom.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and afterward, although the television was on, I wasn’t inclined to think any of us paid it any heed.
Afterward, Gregor paced and growled under his breath. I attempted to balance my checkbook but wound up turning it into a jumbled mess. Alyona decided baking bread would be a good idea, so she took Quinton into the kitchen with her and had him knead the dough into submission.
* * * *
The next morning, the four of us went to church. We returned home to find the light on the answering machine blinking.
The speaker was male, and the message was in Russian. “He’s safe and on his way home. If you wish to thank the person responsible, give her a call at eleven A.M. your time.”
Of course I wished to thank her. A glance at my watch showed I had about ten minutes.
Quinton translated the first part of the message, and Gregor and Alyona hugged each other, hugged him, hugged me.
The next message was from Ludovic. “I just heard from…a friend of Jefferson’s. He’s coming home!”
I called him first. “It’s Portia. I know you’ll want to keep this line open, so just let me say thank you for letting us know. We’re so relieved.”
“As am I. I thought…I wasn’t sure…” His voice cracked. “I have to go.”
“Yes. I’ll let my parents know.”
“Thank you. I didn’t even think…I don’t know where my mind has gone.”
“It’s all right. Ludovic, if you need anything, feel free to call on us.”
“I will. Thank you. Good-bye.”
I hung up the phone.
“I go make us special dinner.” Alyona hurried out of the room.
“Do you have anything for me to do, Portia?”
“No, Gregor.”
“In that case, I’ll try to catch forty winks. I didn’t sleep at all last night.” He yawned and gave his scalp a vigorous rub.
I patted his shoulder. “You’re a good friend. Thank you.”
“Mmm.” His eyes were already at half-mast as he walked toward the stairs.
“Mother?” Quinton lingered in the hallway.
“I have to make that phone call, sweetheart, but afterward, what would you say about going for a ride?”
“I’d love it. I’ll get changed.”
First, I called my parents. Mother cleared her throat after I told her. “Thank you, Portia. I’ll tell your father. And Portia?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“If you’ll inform whoever is responsible for getting him home in one piece—”
“I don’t understand why you would think I’d know anything about Jefferson’s rescue. Tony and Bryan were at Langley coordinating it.”
“Humor me, all right? I must go now. Your father never came to bed last night, and God alone knows how he’s going to be. Good-bye.”
“Bye, Mother.”
I shook out the hairpins and ran my fingers through the French twist I wore. Then I picked up the receiver and dialed the number that would connect me to Folana.
She picked up on the third ring. “Ah. I see Trevalyan kept his word.”
“Did you think he wouldn’t?”
“The British intelligence doesn’t look kindly upon me.”
“They can go—” I remembered how they’d tried to manipulate me into Folana’s bed. “Thank you, Folana. My mother sends her thanks as well. We owe you more than I can ever say. If there’s anything I can do to repay you—”
“You owe me nothing, because I did nothing. Bart was the one who found him and got him out of Chechnya.”
“Then if you’ll let Bart know?”
“He would have done it anyway. He has a fondness for your brother—were you aware?”
“I suspected as much.” I thought about the blond hair I’d plucked from Jefferson’s suit jacket years ago. “But Folana—”
“I’m sorry, I must go.”
“Let me just say thank you.”
“You already did, but…You’re welcome, my dear friend. I’m pleased you finally had need of me.” She hung up before I could say anything more.
* * * *
Ken McIlvoy grinned when he saw us. “I’ll have Mary Lincoln and the Godfather brought out for you.”
The trails were empty, and we were able to let the horses gallop for long stretches. Finally we turned back.
“You’ll be returning to New Hampshire tomorrow.” I planned to drive him and speak to the principal to make sure there were no misunderstandings about Quinton’s delayed arrival.
“Yes. I’m already packed.”
“In that case, now that we no longer have to worry about your uncle, what are your plans for this afternoon?”
“I’d sort of promised to go with Lacey Richardson to the movies.”
She lived down the road and had competed against Quinton a few times. She’d won some, he’d won some, and apparently there were no hard feelings.
It seemed there was no need for me to write to invite Armand Bauchet to come for a visit. I was pleased that while my son had had an adventure this past summer, he was heart-whole.
* * * *
There was a tap on my bedroom door. “Yes?”
“Mother, Uncle Bryan was on the phone. He’ll be stopping by in about twenty minutes. I’ll wait until he gets her before I leave to meet Lacey.”
“All right, sweetheart. Thank you.” I shed my riding habit and took a quick shower, then dressed and rather than put my hair up in its usual French twist, I simply plaited it.
Alyona brought Bryan to the back parlor. His eyes were tired, and he had a scruffy look, as if he hadn’t shaved in days. “You look about fifteen,” he said.
“Which is why I don’t usually wear my hair this way.” I went to him and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“Same here, little sister.” There was alcohol on his breath.
“Ludovic called to let me know that Jefferson is all right.”
“Quinn told me. I’m sorry, Portia. I didn’t even think to call you.”
“This has been a bad week for you. Don’t worry about it. You’ve had enough else to worry about.”
“Did Johanna call you?” He looked perturbed.
“No. Should she have?
” The fact that he’d been drinking perturbed me. It was unusual for him, and especially on a Sunday afternoon. I sat down on the loveseat and patted the space beside me. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
For a moment I thought he wouldn’t, but then the words tumbled out, one over the other. “Libby was expelled for meeting a boy after hours.”
So that was why Johanna wanted Quinton out of her house.
“Johanna…” He scrubbed his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so hysterical. She insisted on taking Libby to the family doctor to make sure she was still intact.”
“Intact? You mean a virgin?” I was startled to see him blush, but he nodded. “She did that to her own daughter? Oh, Bryan, I hate to criticize your wife, but that really wasn’t a smart thing to do!”
“I know. If I’d been home, I would have stopped her.”
“I thought my offer to get Libby into Tidewater would help, but it seems I’ve made things more difficult for you. I’m sorry.”
“No more than usual, and it’s not your fault, Portia. Johanna blames everyone for Libby’s behavior except Libby.”
“I can understand her going out after hours. We all did it.”
“Well, at least you had the sense not to get caught.”
“Yes. It’s almost—”
Alyona tapped on the doorframe. “I am not interrupting, I hope?”
“Not at all, Alyona.”
“I make sandwich for Mr. Bryan. I make with black bread Quinton and I bake last night. Will put meat on your bones.”
“Thank you, Alyona.” He tucked into it, and I wondered when he’d last eaten.
Alyona nodded in approval. “I make tea now,” she said as she left the room.
“When was the last time you ate, Bryan?”
“Dunno,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “Sorry. Tony saw that food was brought in, and I must have eaten, but…breakfast today? Dinner last night? God, Alyona makes the best roast beef.” He moaned around the latest mouthful. “Never mind about that. You were saying?”
I thought back over what he’d told me before Alyona came in. “It was very sloppy of Libby. I wonder if she wanted to get caught.”
“I wondered that myself. But why?”
“To hurt you?”
“I don’t matter enough in her life.” His words were cool, but I could see what was going on in his home disturbed him. “Johanna’s never let me get close enough to her children to mean more than someone who has dinner with them on occasion.”
He looked at his sandwich, and I wondered if he’d lost his appetite, but then he resumed eating, although this time it seemed with less pleasure.
I rose and went to the window, drawing aside the curtain and looking out at the trees. The tips of their leaves were touched with color. Soon they’d turn completely.
“I shouldn’t have dumped this on you, Portia. Please don’t mention this to anyone.”
I turned to look at him. “Johanna isn’t the one, is she?”
“No. I’d hoped we could make a go of it—Mother and Father have—but after we lost Bryan Anthony, it seemed there was no reason to make an effort. We haven’t shared a bedroom since then.”
I remembered the passion Nigel and I had enjoyed, and I grieved that my brother had so little intimacy in his marriage. I went back to him and squeezed his shoulder. “I promise this will just be between the two of us.”
“Thanks, little sister.” His hand fisted closed, and he looked down at what was left of his mangled sandwich with a pained expression. “Alyona is going to be angry with me.”
“She’ll get over it. She’s very fond of you.”
He smiled faintly and shook his head.
“Tell me. How is Jefferson?”
“Ludo didn’t say?”
“He just told me Jefferson was on his way home.”
“Tony and I went to see Jeff for a few minutes once he was home. He had hell beat out of him, but he was more or less in one piece. This big Brit had somehow managed to get him out of Chechnya.”
“What on earth was Jefferson doing there?”
Bryan shrugged. “Wrong place at the wrong time, as far as we could ascertain. The rebels thought he was an Aussie businessman.”
“Australian? Jefferson was never good at accents.”
“He threw around a lot of slang, and apparently they bought it.”
“It was fortunate Bart was able to get him out of there before they realized who they had.”
“I didn’t say anything about Bart Freeman being the big Brit.”
“Didn’t you? How odd.” I folded my hands and met his gaze.
“Portia, did you get that Fournaise woman involved?”
“Why would you think I’d do something like that?”
“Freeman’s her right-hand man.”
“He’s also a good friend of Jefferson’s.”
“Breezy…” He sounded at the end of his tether, and I decided I’d concede the point.
“Bryan, did you honestly think I’d sit back and twiddle my thumbs while a brother of mine was in danger?”
He stared at me for a long moment before finally giving a rueful smile. “I guess not.”
“Thank you.”
“I told Freeman if there was ever anything we could do…He turned me down, of course.”
“Of course. Folana wouldn’t be pleased if others knew of their involvement.”
“Is there anything we can give her by way of our thanks?”
“I understand that lately she’s taken to collecting antique sword canes.”
“I’ll pay a visit to Mr. Primm’s Antique Shop.”
“He always does his best, but mention my name and he’ll do even better.”
“What about Freeman?”
I thought back over the years, and couldn’t help laughing. “Cooking lessons?”
Bryan looked puzzled, but then shook his head. “I’ll talk to Jeff about it.”
“Good idea. How did Ludovic react when he learned Bart was the one who saved Jefferson?”
“He seemed more concerned with getting Jeff into bed. I mean off his feet!”
“I know what you meant.”
He cleared his throat. “I saw Quinton on his way out. Is he doing as well as he seems?”
“You know he’s always been very contained.”
“To tell you the truth, I was surprised at how cheerful he was when he came to stay with us. I know how much he was looking forward to going to Moscow.”
“He was. Well, we all were. Gregor and Alyona were coming with me.”
“We were coming too. I had some time off, and I know Jeff and Ludo had booked a flight. Tony…” A blush rose in his cheeks, and he looked away. “Johanna refused to leave her children.”
Alyona came back just then with our tea, including a little pot of honey for Bryan. “Thank you, Alyona.”
She took what was left of Bryan’s sandwich. “You not eat enough, Mr. Bryan.”
“If you’d run away with me, you could feed me all the time.” He grinned at her and reached for her hand. “But every time I ask you, you turn me down.”
She blushed and swatted his hand. “You stay for dinner. I feed you then.”
“Yes, Alyona.”
She bustled out, murmuring about being too old for pretty men.
He turned startled eyes on me. “She thinks I’m pretty?”
“Quite a few women find blue-eyed blonds very much to their taste, Bryan.” I handed him a cup and saucer, and thought of Allison. “Well, I’m very pleased Quinton was in a good mood when he went to you.”
“Other than missing the Olympics, why wouldn’t he be in a good mood?”
“He was attracted to someone he met in Avignon. However, right now he’s out with the daughter of one of our neighbors, so I’m assuming it was puppy love. I’m hoping it will be some time before he meets his one.”
“If he ever does. You know as well as I how chance-y that can be. And Sebrings haven’t be
en very lucky these past two generations.” He was staring into his cup as he stirred in the honey.
Father, Tony, Bryan, all unlucky in who they selected as a partner. But Jefferson and I had both been fortunate.
Two generations, and possibly more, since the affected parties would hardly be likely to share their unhappiness.
“Would he have run into Sidorov, do you think?”
“Excuse me?” His sudden change of topic distracted me.
“If Quinn had gone to Moscow.”
“Oh.” I gave it some thought. “Perhaps, if the KGB had Sidorov handling security there.”
“Did you ever meet him, Portia?”
“I know he was at Nigel’s funeral, but no, not officially, and not face to face.”
“Oh? Now that’s a story I’d like to hear.”
“You only think you do.”
He sat back and crossed his legs, obviously prepared to wait.
“Oh, very well. It was when Nigel and I were in Berlin, just before the Wall went up. Nigel received a message that he was to meet Milos Diomedes.”
“The Greek? He wasn’t active in Germany at that time.”
“No, he wasn’t. I learned after Nigel left that it was a ruse—that the KGB intended to…invite him to visit Moscow.”
“Why? No, don’t answer that! I never should have asked!” He knew as well as I did that my husband had an eidetic memory, and I hadn’t been surprised to learn the KGB wanted what was behind his hazel eyes. “Don’t tell me you followed him!” Bryan turned pale, as if he was picturing me making my way through the streets of Berlin in the dark of that night.
“Of course I followed. I knew where he was going and got there ahead of him. I was in the shadows, behind Sidorov. I had my little Smith & Wesson Centennial with me, and I pressed it against his spine. ‘This is a small gun,’ I whispered in his ear, ‘but it can put a very large hole in your spine.’” Actually, what I’d said was, “One move, and you’re a dead man, Sid,” but I had little doubt Bryan would think that was melodramatic.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Of course not. He was too much a gentleman for that.”
“So he just stood there and let Nigel get away.”
“He didn’t have much choice.” And fortunately, Nigel didn’t linger. He gave the Greek ten minutes, and then slipped away into the darkness while Sidorov muttered Russian curses. “Afterward, we’d trade coded barbs.”