So our first embrace was one with Jolee between us, which was better than fine with me, since I loved them both so much.
We went to dinner, and it was Jolee, chattering on and on to this tall, quiet stranger—whom she’d recognized the moment he stepped onto the pier, because we kept photos of him everywhere in the house—who said it first.
“—when you and Mama Dot get married.”
Walt looked at me. I just smiled at him as I ate my pie.
I’d gotten us a suite in a hotel in a colored neighborhood. It wasn’t quite the Ritz, but it was nice and clean and the people were friendly. Jolee and I had stayed there the night before and were made to feel nothing but welcome.
“Jolee and I will share the bedroom,” I told Walt as I unlocked the door. “The couch opens out. That’s yours.”
He looked at the supplies, the tents and such, that I’d brought inside—not feeling it was safe to leave them in the back of the pickup truck while we were in the big, bad city.
“We’re going to camp on our way back to Texas,” I informed him. “I know you’ve probably had enough of camping for a lifetime and a half, but Jolee and I, we don’t get a chance too often.”
It would remove the discomfort of attempting to stay in motels in which Walter and Jolee would not be welcome. As far as I was concerned, I had no desire to give the people who owned those places my hard-earned dollars, anyway.
Jolee got ready for bed, and Walter pretended not to cry as he read her a story. I sat by the window and also pretended not to cry. Jolee must’ve thought we were nuts. She was just so happy her daddy was home—what were the tears for?
Five-year-olds rarely cry from happiness.
Walter put his daughter into bed, while I went into the bathroom and changed into my nightgown and robe. I knew Jolee well—so I knew she’d be asleep almost immediately upon hitting that pillow.
Walt was standing at the window as I came out.
“Bathroom’s yours,” I told him.
He turned to look at me.
“This isn’t that bad, is it?” I asked.
He knew what I was talking about. However, my gown and robe were designed to confuse and they were indeed doing the trick. It took him a moment or two to answer. “It’ll be different in Texas.”
“I hope so,” I said. “In Texas I’ll be sharing a bed with you instead of Jolee.”
He shook his head. “Dot …”
“I know how strange this must seem to you, to be back in the States. Your daughter’s so big—and I know you must still miss Mae. I will not rush you into anything, Walter, but you do need to know that I will not take no. You said that this—that we—cannot be? Well, I am responding by telling you that there are no acceptable alternatives. I love you, and I do believe you love me. Take all the time you need to get used to the fact that you, Jolee, and I already are a family. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Good night.”
And then I went into the bedroom where Jolee was sleeping, and I closed the door.
I’m not sure who was more surprised, him or me. I’m pretty sure we both expected me to jump him the moment Jolee was asleep!
September 18, 1945
From the journal of Dorothy S. Smith
We are back in Texas. Our camping trip was a huge success.
We came home via Alabama, where Walter and Jolee spent some time at Mae’s grave. It was good for Walt to see it, even though that day and the next were quiet ones, with little conversation between any of us.
But we took our time, spending two days along a river in Mississippi, where the sky was so blue you’d swear you were in heaven.
It was there that we let ourselves laugh again.
Yes, it was a most successful trip.
As was my campaign. As we brought our luggage in from the truck, Walter didn’t say a word as I carried his bag into my bedroom. He just stood there, giving me that look.
“Yes? No?” I asked.
And he nodded. “Yes.”
And, oh, that’s when I jumped him. Such willpower I’d had up to that very moment and it all crumbled. I kissed him, and Lord Almighty, he kissed me and we were both crying.
“This is going to be hard,” he said. “This life we’re choosing.”
“Maybe so,” I said, kissing him again, “but I’d prefer hard and wonderful any day over easy and run of the mill.”
And then, of course, Jolee came running in. Walt told her we were getting married and she just looked at him. This was not news to her. Of course we were.
This afternoon and evening has seemed to last forever.
Walter’s in with Jolee right now, reading her a story. It’s become his tradition—that bedtime story. I love that it’s been only ten days and we already have traditions.
We truly are a family now.
I’m writing this while I wait for him to join me here. I’m nervous and excited and, oh dear Lord—
He’s here.
September 19, 1945
From the journal of Dorothy S. Smith
I’ve written in this journal almost every night for the past five years.
I may never find the time or inclination to write in here ag—
Gina was at the airport five hours early.
That was the trouble with traveling by public transportation. The one time she didn’t allow an extra five hours to get somewhere would be the one time the bus would be five hours late.
She wandered through the bookstores and strolled through the terminal, checking out the restaurants, trying to guess from the way the food smelled if it would give her indigestion.
Although it was probably getting on an airplane that gave her indigestion, regardless of what she ate.
For a while after the hijacking, she’d traveled only by train or car. But that became inconvenient—especially when she decided to take that trip to Hawaii.
So she flew.
And got indigestion.
Gina settled into a seat near the terminal windows and tried to look forward to getting home, to seeing her parents and her brothers.
She had to smile at the idea of setting up one of her brothers with Jules Cassidy. Leo and Rob were married, so count them out. Victor dated ferociously—a new woman every other week. It was almost as if he were trying to prove something.
Hmmm.
She settled back and opened her book and tried not to think about Max.
This was where he’d show up. If her life were a movie, this was the scene where he’d come looking for her, running through the airport, after having searched his soul and realizing that he didn’t really love Alyssa, that it was Gina who’d owned his heart all along.
“Gina!”
She didn’t look up. That was just a coincidence. Had to be. She was completely losing her mind if she actually thought—
“Gina!”
That definitely wasn’t Max’s voice. Was it?
She stood up.
And there he was. Pushing his way through the crowd. Shouting her name. “Gina!”
Only it wasn’t Max, it was Jules Cassidy.
He spotted her, ran toward her. “You gotta come with me,” he said. “It’s Max. He’s been shot.”
“What? Where? Oh, my God …” Gina dropped her book as she grabbed her bag, her purse. The book went skittering under the row of seats and she left it there.
“He took a bullet to the chest,” Jules said as she ran with him, back to the terminal entrance. He had blood on his shirt. “He’s in the OR right now. He was asking for you.”
Oh, my God.
“Well, no,” Jules corrected himself as he took her bag for her. “He didn’t actually ask for you, but it wasn’t like he was able to talk much with a hole in his … He did say your name, though.”
Oh, God. Oh, Max … “That’s close enough for me,” Gina said.
Sam was out of the operating room but still under from the anesthesia when Mary Lou came into the room.
“Is he going to be okay?” she as
ked.
Alyssa didn’t let go of his hand. “Yes. He’s doing really well. The doctors were optimistic. They thought that I’ll be able to take him home in just a few days. He’s very healthy to start with, so …”
Mary Lou nodded. “Ihbraham’s okay, too. His leg’s broken, but he’s okay.”
“I’m glad he’s all right,” Alyssa said.
“I can’t stay,” Mary Lou said. “Haley’s with Noah and Claire. Did you know Sam’s cousin is …”
“Black?” Alyssa supplied. “Yeah. He kind of looks like Sam, doesn’t he?”
Mary Lou stared at her.
“You don’t see it, huh?” Alyssa said.
“Haley likes them,” Mary Lou said. “That’s good. Because I don’t know how long the questioning is going to last, or even if I’m going to have charges against me. My prints were on that gun, but it was only because I found it in the trunk of my car. I thought it was Sam’s and I went to tell him about it and make him take it out, but then it was gone and—”
“You’ll get a chance to explain all that,” Alyssa told her. “Don’t be afraid to get advice from a lawyer, though.”
“I know. I am.” She glanced back toward the door. “I have to go. I just wanted to thank you again.”
“You’ll be seeing me around,” Alyssa said.
“Are you going to marry him?” Mary Lou asked. “Sam?”
“Yeah,” Alyssa said. “I am.”
“He’s loved you for forever.”
That couldn’t have been easy for her to admit.
“Those papers were filed,” Mary Lou added. “My lawyer let me know that the divorce is final. Will you tell Sam?”
“Yeah,” Alyssa said.
“I’m getting remarried, too,” Mary Lou told her with a smile that could only be described as genuinely delighted. “To Ihbraham.”
Ihbraham Rahman? “Really?”
Mary Lou looked at her. “That’s pretty much what Sam said, too. I guess that’s kind of hard to believe, huh?”
“No,” Alyssa lied. “It’s not. It’s … I think it’s wonderful.” And that was no lie.
“I know it’s going to be hard,” Mary Lou said, “but I really love him.”
“Then it won’t be harder than being without him, will it?” Alyssa told her.
Mary Lou smiled. “No.”
“I hope you’ll live somewhere near San Diego,” Alyssa said. “Sam really wants Haley in his life.”
“I’m not sure what we’re going to do,” Mary Lou admitted. “I seem to have just burned down my employer’s house.” She started to laugh. “That’s not funny.” She covered her mouth, unable to stop her laughter. “Can you imagine him coming home …?”
Alyssa grinned, too. “Way to get that promotion.”
Mary Lou giggled. “Yeah. It’s really not funny, though. Those two security guards were killed.” She sobered up fast. “I thank the Lord we’re all still here. And I thank you for all you did. We’re alive today because of you and Sam. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“Just let Sam be a part of Haley’s life,” Alyssa said, but then Sam stirred and she turned to give him her full attention.
She didn’t notice when Mary Lou slipped out of the room.
Max was out of surgery by the time they reached the hospital, and his prognosis was good.
Gina didn’t know what Jules did or said to get her into the ICU. She didn’t care. Just as long as she was there.
He looked so pale in that bed. So fragile …
She wanted to touch him, but she didn’t dare.
“Where’s Alyssa?” she asked Jules. “Does she know? You should tell her.”
“She’s with Sam,” he told her. “Here in this same hospital. He was shot, too.”
“Who’s Sam?” Gina asked.
It was possible that Jules told her, but it didn’t matter, she wasn’t listening.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
FRIDAY, JUNE 20, 2003
“I hate it here. I want to leave,” Sam said for the godzillionth time. It was amazing that Alyssa was still there in his hospital room, still sitting by his bed. He would have either driven his own self crazy or bored himself to tears a long time ago.
“I know,” Alyssa said with patience that was admirable. She took his hand, which was very nice. “But the doctors say you’ve got to wait until—”
“How do they know how I’m feeling?”
“Well, I think they know because they ask you and they take your vital signs and—”
Something about the way she was sitting or talking or something reminded him of …
“Did I dream Mary Lou coming in here and having a conversation with you?” he interrupted her.
“No,” she said. “She was in here. Yesterday afternoon. You were still completely out of it.”
“Maybe not completely. Did you …?” Sam laughed. “I’m sure I dreamed this.” He looked hard at her. “Mary Lou asked if you were going to marry me, and you said—”
“Yes.”
She was looking back at him, a little smiling playing about the edges of her mouth.
Holy fuck.
Sam was having trouble breathing, but it had nothing to do with his medical condition. “Does this mean I asked you to …?”
Alyssa nodded. “Oh, yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t remember?”
He laughed. “No. Jesus.” He put his hand over his heart. It was pounding so hard, he was surprised the nurse wasn’t in here, making sure he wasn’t about to die. “And you actually said … yes?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly said yes directly to you, since you pretty much lost consciousness,” she told him. “So … yes.”
Sam reached for her, and she sat on the edge of his bed so he could kiss her.
He definitely wasn’t bored anymore.
She pulled back. “Easy there. Did the doctor say you could kiss me like that?”
“What did I say?” Sam really wanted to know. “I mean, how’d I talk you into it? I was sure I was going to have to talk for hours.”
Alyssa was trying her damnedest not to laugh. “What do you think you said?”
Uh-oh.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I was planning to give you this speech about how much I love you and want you in my life, and that I was willing to wait until you were ready, that I was more than willing to do this entire relationship thing your way. Your call. Your rules. If you wanted us to date for a few years before we even thought about getting married, well, I’d do it. Gladly. And if you wanted to get married tomorrow, I’d do that, too. The only thing I wasn’t going to do was take no for an answer. I didn’t need a yes right away, but I would not take a no.” He looked at her hopefully. “Is that what I said?”
Alyssa nodded, and he could’ve sworn she was still trying not to laugh. “Pretty much.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “I really love you, Sam.”
Well, that brought tears to his eyes.
He couldn’t believe he’d finally managed to say the right thing.
MONDAY, JUNE 23, 2003
Max woke up to find Jules Cassidy sitting by his hospital bed.
“Hey,” Jules said. “Welcome back, nap boy.”
Nap boy? “Are you here to break me out?” Max asked.
“No, sir, just to provide a thrilling mix of entertainment and information—to keep you updated as to what’s going on in the real world. As opposed to this hideous alternate reality where they serve orange Jell-O every day with lunch.”
“Sam Starrett went home two days ago,” Max complained.
“Two fucking days ago,” Jules said in something that was supposed to be a Texas drawl. “Where’s Gina, boss?”
“I don’t know,” Max said. “Maybe she went back to New York.” He glared at Jules, who was responsible for bringing her here. “Where she belongs.”
One of the nurses stepped into the room. “Are you looking for your daughter?”
Jules laughed. “Gina’s actually my daughter.”
She blinked at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought …”
Max just shook his head and closed his eyes.
“She went downstairs to get some coffee,” the nurse said.
“Let’s start with the stuff you might not want Gina to hear,” Jules said. “Like this letter that came today from Allen Bryant?”
Max opened his eyes to look at the piece of paper Jules was holding out.
“You might recognize the seal of the United States President on his letterhead,” Jules continued. “Apparently he has rejected your letter of resignation.”
Max would’ve sighed, but sighing hurt too much. “That was private.”
“Was private,” Jules agreed. “Not so much anymore, seeing how since you’ve been laid up, Laronda is opening your mail. She’s madder than hell that you didn’t tell her about this—”
“I was going to.”
“She’s planning to shoot you again when you get out of the hospital. So you might want to take your time with the whole recovery thing. And then go into hiding.”
Max took the letter and read it. While discretion was always appreciated, there was no problem for an unmarried team leader to have a relationship with a woman—also unmarried—well over the age of consent. Yada yada yada, this woman’s experiences as a hostage took place years ago, yada yada yada, no need for discipline of any kind.
In other words, Max’s boss, and his boss’s boss, which would be President Bryant, saw no wrongdoing in Max’s actions.
Swell.
Except for the fact that Max didn’t see it the same way.
But okay. “You think I should stay on? As team leader?” he asked Jules.
“I think this letter says you don’t have a choice.”
“What am I going to do about Gina?”
“Well, you could decide to forsake women altogether.” Jules was actually fluttering his eyelashes at him. But then he grinned. “Have you been suitably entertained yet?”
“Yeah,” Max said. “You can stop.”
“You want to hear the latest on Warren Canton, also known as Husaam Abdul-Fataah, also known as the terrorist who shot your ass?” Jules asked.
Max just waited. Jules would tell him sooner or later. And Max sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere.
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