Given New Worlds

by Rachael Sircar

  Ellen scrambled up the steps towards where Sean was holding the front door. “You must be the Sean I’ve heard too little about. What a handsome fellow you are. It’s no wonder Abby’s fallen for you.”

  Abby had to laugh at the appearance of red blotches on Sean’s cheeks. She hadn’t seen them for over a year, and it was a welcome sight. Sean lifted an eyebrow towards Abby. It would have to do for a hello until they got a moment alone, because with Ellen’s entrance, Abby was sure not many mouths would get a word in edgewise.

  “Your mom wanted us to be a surprise,” James apologized as he walked up the steps and planted a familial peck on the top of Abby’s head. He more than made up for his wife’s lack in height and served as an imposing director of the NSA. His graying hair was neatly trimmed and combed, and the dark blue suit he wore screamed out business-not-casual. The only time she’d seen him without a suit was when he’d hosted an egg roll picnic at his house for Easter when she’d been in high school. And even then, the tan slacks and light blue polo he’d worn had been pressed to perfection.

  “It’s a good surprise. Thank you for coming.” Abby had to bite her lip. She was sure that James was in on whatever Sean had been up to lately, therein sat more lies, and his presence at dinner tonight was likely not a social visit. She was fully aware that she was about to hear more of what Sean had refrained from communicating to her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  AN attempt was made to ingest as much food as possible throughout the first two courses, but by the third, Abby’s stomach had pushed the pause button and she couldn’t find it in her to make a dent in the stuffing and mashed potatoes that had been piled liberally on her plate by Mom.

  “At least eat your green beans,” Mom said. “They are a good source of riboflavin.”

  “Riboflavin?” Dad asked. The word was slurred and gruff, but Mom knew what he was asking and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

  “Vitamin B2,” Ellen added. “The body uses it for cellular respiration.”

  Abby doubted that Ellen even knew what cellular respiration was, but she obediently picked at the green beans on her plate as conversations turned to NFL stats and fall decor.

  Sean’s abbreviated answers were enough to appease Dad and James, but Abby could see that he wasn’t fully engaged in the conversation. He’d been seated next to her throughout the meal, and the sense of his presence was almost more than she could bare. She wanted to reach for him, press her cheek up against his chest, and hold him for days, but decorum won over and Abby only passed furtive glances his way, occasionally laughing at his jokes and commenting on the conversation fluff as necessary.

  Ellen’s continuous discourse was a welcome relief, and Abby was disappointed when Mom invited her to the back patio to see how they’d redone the garden lights since the McCarrin’s had been there last. That left Abby alone with the men - and she knew that conversation wouldn’t stay on football for much longer.

  “So, Court. How’s the old war wound treating you?” James asked.

  She watched as Sean lifted a brow, then chose wisely as to which war wound James was referring. “Well, you already know about the delayed detection of diaphragmatic rupture. There was a perforation of viscera into the thoracic cavity, suture-line dehiscence…” He paused and glanced from his plate to James’ blank face. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Would you think less of me if I admitted that to you?”

  “Maybe,” Sean said with a chuckle, his dimple clearly displayed on his cheek.

  “Well then, let’s just pretend that I understood every word,” James said. “I’ll look it up on WebMD when I get home. In the meantime…” He pushed aside his dessert plate and pressed his fingers together over the tablecloth. “I believe that we need to bring Abigail to light on a few touchy subjects.”

  Sean pinched at his lip, the dimple now only a vague memory as Abby awaited more evidence of Sean’s lies and deceit.

  “Abigail, I trust that you will consider all this information confidential,” James said. If anyone understood confidential, it was the group currently seated around the table. “I’ve discussed this disclosure with your father, as well as Staff Sergeant Court and several of his commanding officers. We have full confidence in your discretion.”

  Abby nodded her head in agreement, not letting mention of Sean’s military title throw her.

  “Let me start off by stating that Court has proven himself time and again to be of noble and defining character. In almost all situations, he has handled himself with intelligence and a solid performance.”

  The fact that he’d said ‘almost’ all situations didn’t slip by her.

  “Having stated that, I would like to fill you in on a few details from before you and Sean were acquainted.”

  Abby watched Sean squirm in his chair. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was uncomfortable with high praise, or if he was anticipating the information coming forth, but either way - Abby had her ears locked into high gear and felt her nerves join at attention as well.

  “Staff Sergeant Court was attached to a surveillance and target acquisition team while serving in Afghanistan. He was not only an exceptional shot, but he had a calm, steady head on his shoulders that was high in demand during his deployments.”

  Sean stretched his neck as if a crick had taken hold and was beating him to death. She could tell by his expression that he wished he could be anywhere but at that table.

  “While on deployment in Kunar Province, Court discovered that members of his team were missing after being ambushed by a group of insurgents. Under enemy fire, he searched the area and found the men. One was deceased, another suffering from shrapnel wounds. He convinced several Afghan soldiers to move the body of the deceased, as well as the injured soldier in order to perform treatment. Court was successful in handling a major battlefield injury. He’d expressed interest in the past as far as the medical field was concerned, and several coincidences melded to place him at Wedgewood College for a pre-med degree. That is where you come in.”

  Abby blinked. James was talking about her like a simple cog in a huge military plan that involved Afghan soldiers and battlefield injuries. Her mind was a flurry of activity, but she couldn’t pinpoint a single thought. She wished that she was recording the conversation, because she knew by the overwhelming sensation that she would forget half of it, but of course, this was all confidential.

  “You’ve kept us on our toes for many years, and by the time you’d evolved into a young woman, the threats only increased.”

  The threats? Abby wasn’t getting it.

  “Do you recall several notes being passed to you with the word ‘REVENGE’ written on them?” James’ face clouded for a minute, then he shook his head in apology. “I’m sorry, Abigail. That wasn’t very sensitive of me. Please don’t tell my wife that I’ve slipped into work mode. I know that you’re well aware of the word.”

  Yes, she was. And she saw it every time she glanced at her back in the mirror, which wasn’t very often. Shrugging her shoulders, Abby smiled, hoping that the expression would come off as understanding, not freaked out and horrified like she actually felt inside her goosebumped skin.

  “Two months before you were born, your father went on trial against a well-known crime syndicate. There were death threats and complications, but your father…” James nodded towards Dad who was sitting with a hardened look on his face. “He’s a stubborn ass. Excuse my language. He insisted on testifying, and then some. Of course, we attempted to fill in all the gaps and put him under as much protection as possible, but the U.S. Government only has so much money to throw at protection cases. So, I was able to work a deal with your father and several financial operations… very legal, I assure you… throughout the Southern European region. This, along with your mother’s money from her developing acting career, provided the security needed to protect a child that was threatened from day one.”

  “Me?” Abby was floore
d. All of the extra security, all of Dad’s worries; they were real. And the whole time, she’d only thought that he was being overprotective. It made her sick to consider the many times she’d given Dad grief about the security services, his unwavering insistence that she stay close to home, his frantic calls when he didn’t know where she was every minute of the day. It was because of what he’d done.

  “You’re a target, Abigail. You always have been. And the threat only grew along with your dad’s climb up the senatorial ladder, as well as your mother’s celebrity status.”

  “What does all of this have to do with Sean?” she asked.

  “Sean was a plant, Abigail. He wasn’t at Wedgewood just studying chemistry and biology. Of course, we gave him a full-ride scholarship in order to get his degree, but in his backpack, he was packing a pretty intensive cache of weapons.”

  The sound of the chair dropping to the floor as Abby stood abruptly wasn’t the only noise in the room. Dad’s rattly voice was trying to break into the conversation, but she could tell that his brain was under the impression that all systems were go while his mouth said the opposite. She glared at Sean and crossed the room to where Dad was trying to make words out of the mess that emanated from his lips.

  “You jerk!” she said to Sean. “You knew who I was the moment you met me? You totally lied to me. You played it off that you had no idea who I was.” She absently handed Dad the iPad communicator as she continued the one-voiced battle with Sean. He wasn’t saying a word.

  “And the worst thing is, I have the bad habit of believing in you. Everything you do is a lie, isn’t it? You were trained to sneak around. Trained to watch people. Were you trained to watch me too? The security crew weren’t good enough? The U.S. Government had to send in a sniper? I can’t believe this!”

  Dad grunted and shoved the iPad her way. She snatched it and had to force herself not to throw it at Sean’s head. She glanced down at the screen glowing up at her.

  Court was on need to know status. Did not need to know.

  “Didn’t need to know what?” she said, still not able to wrap her head around the fact that she’d been hunted her whole life, and it had culminated in the government sending in a highly trained boyfriend.

  “Sean didn’t know who you were, Abigail,” James said. “As a matter of fact, your father didn’t even know who he was at the time. Court was there for backup. His status was only on call. We gave him the scholarship, but only if he agreed to stay at Wedgewood. It wasn’t until you two met and we noticed a… a potential romance, that your father decided to bend things your way a bit.”

  Abby continued to fume, but now her energies were focused on her father. “Yes, Dad. I heard about your little employee, employer relationship with Sean. I see now that it was all a ruse. Just another plan to keep your daughter safe. How convenient that she fall in love with a man backed by military training. Did you pay him to whisper sweet nothings in my ear as well? What about when we had sex in Kenya? Did you pay for that? Because I know prostitution is illegal in the states, not sure about Kenya though.”

  “Jamie…” Sean’s voice was lit with concern, but she didn’t bother looking at him. If she did, surely she wouldn’t be able to get out any of the words that were boiling over in her mind.

  “And what about the proposal? Did you pay for the ring too? Because a marriage of convenience sounds very up your alley, Dad. A prepared prince for your precious princess.”

  “Jamie!” The sensation of a firm grip spinning her around alerted Abby to Sean’s touch. She lifted a hand to punch him in the chin, but he quickly deflected the blow and pulled her forearms into a hold. The prosthetic fingers on his right hand were surprisingly strong and dug into the joints of her wrist.

  “Abby, listen to me. I didn’t take the money. Not any of it.”

  She tried to pull away, wanting to run to the backyard, to Mom’s arms. Mom would defend her. Mom would see what Sean and Dad, and possibly James as well, had done was wrong.

  “It’s true, Abigail,” James said. “He put it all into your account.”

  She stopped struggling and turned towards James. The firm grip Sean had on her arms loosened and she tried to hold on to the words he was speaking. “What account?”

  “Well, the first several payments - when he was at Wedgewood, were funneled into a personal account, and then used to purchase several pieces of jewelry.”

  Abby remember what Mom had told her about the necklace and earrings.

  “The rest of the funds that Sean received from your father were placed in a Swiss bank account maintained by the Gill Kenyan Relief Fund.”

  Abby’s hands pulled from Sean’s grasp and went immediately to her face. Tears began to surface, and lights danced before her eyes. All that money? It was Sean’s? She remembered how the funds had paid for Ayubu’s many surgeries. She also remembered taking a small bit of money from the fund in order to purchase clothes. The clothes she wore on dates with Sean in Nairobi. Did he know that it was his money that had purchased the yellow skirt when he saw her? Logic battled with introspection as Abby tried to make heads and tails of the knowledge placed before her.

  “Your father has continued to subsidize Court’s work, even though the money has been continuously rejected.”

  Abby looked at her dad who was nodding with stubborn reticence. It was clear that he wasn’t happy about the money not being accepted. She understood now. It was guilt money. Guilt money that Sean would never accept.

  But why hadn’t he accepted it before Dad had shot his hand? Before the attack? Why had Sean purchased the jewelry instead? The jewelry that was now sitting a pile of ashes in an incinerator in downtown Nairobi.

  She ran from the room, not wanting to have any more information in her head. It was all too much. She simply sank onto the living room couch and cried.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  TWO weeks passed before Abby saw Sean again. After her outburst, Mom and Ellen had discovered her crying in the living room and whisked her off for a glass of wine and a bubble bath. Abby was sure that Mom had an idea of what had been divulged after dinner, but she hadn’t asked any questions. She’d only soothed and reassured Abby that she would feel better in the morning.

  Of course, Ellen had been full of questions and theories, most of them reverting to the fact that the men must have morphed into ‘work mode’ and pushed the conversation to distressing subjects like war and injuries. Ellen only had part of it right.

  Mom left for Los Angeles on a Friday, and Abby had the next day off from school. Dad and Jerome were planning a golf game for eleven o’clock, where Jerome would golf, and Dad would boss everybody around, so Abby was looking forward to an afternoon of sitting in front of the fireplace, avoiding studying for a few hours, and catching up on a book that she’d put aside months ago.

  But once she’d managed to settle into the recliner with the novel, a text from the security gate informed her that she had a visitor. Abby glanced at the video feed on her phone.

  She debated leaving him there at the front door, but the image of his handsome silhouette against the backdrop of the high afternoon sun was too much to resist. Abby reviewed her lazy-day jeans and sweatshirt attire, then opened the door to the man that had stolen her heart too many times to count.

  “Hey good lookin’, watcha got cookin’?” he asked as the door revealed a very similar jeans and sweatshirt combination. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic fingers, but during her time with him in Kenya she’d grown accustomed to his hand without it, and the additional fingers almost seemed a farce. She was glad he wasn’t wearing it.

  “Cooking? Well, peanut butter and jelly is pretty much all I’m capable of.”

  “You want company?” Sean asked, his heart clearly on his sleeve.

  “I don’t know,” Abby said, turning away and walking back to the living room. “How much are they paying you?”

  She heard the sound of the door click closed behind her as well as the
echoing footsteps of his boots as they followed her in. The smooth leather chair no longer seemed as inviting, so Abby opted to plop down on the couch. Sean sat in the chair in which she’d been reading and lifted the novel. “More Nicholas Sparks? Is this one good?”

  “I’m not sure. I keep getting interrupted.”

  Sean set the book on the coffee table. “I’m not sorry,” he said.

  “Well, I suppose that if anyone were to interrupt my reading a Nicholas Sparks novel, it might as well be you. You did name me after one of his characters, so we kind of owe him.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Abby curled her legs under herself and made sure she knew where the tissues were. She had a feeling this speech would bring out the waterworks again. She’d cried a hundred times since she’d found out about all the additional lies. It hadn’t been Sean’s fault. It was Dad. No, not Dad. It had been the fault of whoever it was that he’d testified against before she’d even been born.

  “I’m not sorry about keeping you safe. I’m not sorry about keeping you from the truth. And I’m not sorry about healing my mind and body before I met with you again.”

  She could tell that the three little sentences had taken a lot of thought and had taken a lot out of him as well. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair. Today it was free from the usual gunk that kept it smooth and perfectly coiffed.

  “Did you really not know who I was? That first time in the library?”

  “I swear, I had no idea,” he said. “I knew that I was there to support a security team on campus, but I thought it was one of the professors. When I found out it was you… well, I almost quit.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Are you kidding me? I was getting paid to date the hottest, most fun, most intelligent woman I’d ever met. Who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance?”