“This is not why you woke up screaming last night,” John said.
“It’s a big deal,” Alex said.
“No,” John said. “This is just a decision, which is reversible if need be. This is not why you woke up screaming.”
Alex winced and looked down.
“Just tell me,” John said. He pulled on a button-down, collared blue shirt.
So, she did. She told him about the dream. She told him about being dead. She told him about how dirty the team was and how they dropped all of the stupid trinkets into her coffin. She told him about figuring out that Joseph was in danger and sending him out of town. She told him about the phone call.
“Have you tried the number?” John asked.
Alex shook her head.
“What is it?” John asked as he zipped his pants and buckled his belt.
Alex repeated the number. John’s brow furrowed. He walked to where his cell phone was charging. He pressed the screen a few times.
“This number?” John asked.
He showed her the cell phone. Alex nodded.
“Who is it?” Alex asked.
“It’s your brother, Max,” John said. He shook his head. “What’s going on with you?”
“Me?” Alex gestured to her chest and then shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”
“Alex.” John put his hands on her arms. “You’re not yourself.”
“What do you mean?” Alex asked.
“Max can’t call you,” John said. “It’s a security matter for the trial he’s working on. You know that. So you set up this phone number that he could talk to you and me, and Wyatt, and your parents.”
Alex shrugged. She had no memory of this.
“You are the reason this number exists,” John said. He shook his head. “Call your brother.”
“I can’t!” Alex said. “I tried on my cell, and I tried in the dream.”
“You have a new cell phone, remember?” John asked. “You checked in your cell phone right before Ingram’s drama. You came home with a new phone and got another one when you almost drowned three days ago.”
“I tried to call him,” Alex said.
“Because your cell phone changes all of the time, we got approval for my cell and our secure darknet phone,” John said.
“What?” Alex asked.
“Call your brother on your darknet line,” John said. “He’s worried about you. I told him about Jesse, and he said that Jesse tells him that you won’t talk to him. You pretend you can’t see or hear him.”
“I do?” Alex asked.
“What’s going on with you?” John asked.
“I . . .” Alex said. “I guess I don’t know.”
There was a noise downstairs, and they looked at the door.
“Talk to Raz,” John said. “He hasn’t seen you since you returned from your ass chewing. He can help.”
“Raz?” Alex asked.
“Alex.” John peered into her face. “Outside of playing with the twins and taking Maggie to the beach, you haven’t done anything in a month. No one has seen you.”
“But . . .”
“I saw you more when you were working out of state,” John said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Alex said. “We didn’t have kids then, and . . .”
“No,” John said. “Don’t blame the twins. The difference was that you were present. What did your father say?”
“My dad?” Alex asked.
“He told me that you seemed to be in some kind of fugue, probably PTSD,” John said. “He didn’t think you were especially depressed. He thinks the trauma of being treated so poorly by Admiral Twat stirred your brain around.”
Alex watched John for a moment.
“What meds are you taking?” John asked.
“None,” Alex said.
“You haven’t been drinking especially much, at least around me,” John said. She shook her head. “Are you smoking marijuana?”
“Pot? No. Never,” Alex said. In a perfect imitation of Rebecca, she added, “Schizophrenia in the genes means no marijuana.”
His lips lifted in appreciation for her imitation.
“Do you want me to pee in a cup?” Alex asked.
“Maybe,” John said. “But first . . .”
He pulled her close to him and kissed her neck.
“Call Max,” John said. “Hang out with your team. They miss you desperately.”
“I don’t have any answers for them,” Alex said.
“That’s okay,” John said. “They just want to see you.”
Alex shrugged.
“Did you ever ask Quanshay or Royce, for that matter, about talking to Nathan’s mother?” John asked.
“I forgot all about it,” Alex said with a shake of her head.
“How about Colin?” John asked. “Have you spoken to him about his conversation with Nathan’s son?”
Shaking her head, she sat down on the bed.
“I guess you’re right,” Alex said. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” John said.
She gave him a vague smile, and he kissed her lips. There was a knock on the door.
“Breakfast!” Amelia’s voice came through the door. She ran off.
John grabbed Alex and held her tight.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t care how crazy you are.”
She laughed. They kissed again. He took her hand, and they went downstairs for breakfast.
“Alex, voudrais-vous faire le cafe, chérie?” Claire asked as Alex walked into the kitchen.
“Oui,” Alex said.
Alex took the coffee pot, rinsed it out, and started brewing the pot of coffee. When she looked up, Claire was gawking at her.
“Espresso, chérie,” Claire said. Switching to English, she added, “Since when do you choose to drink this poison?”
Alex looked at her and looked around the room. Everyone was staring at her.
“J’ne sais pas,” Alex said and shrugged that she didn’t know.
Muttering to herself, Claire began opening cabinets until she found what she was looking for. She gestured into the cabinet. Alex peered in and saw her favorite espresso machine.
“Te voilà!” Alex exclaimed to the espresso maker as if it were a long-lost lover.
Claire, Helene, and Frederick laughed. They spoke at the same time. Claire waved to her children, and they nodded.
“We have been concerned for you,” Claire said in French.
“Why?” Alex asked in French. “I’m just here.”
“In the plastic house with the plastic life?” Claire asked.
“These are marble counters!” Alex said. “Cork floor, oak cabinets, wood floors throughout the house.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Claire said. “No question.”
“It’s not very Alex,” Helene said in French.
“Things change,” Alex said in a low, angry voice.
“Mais café?” Frederick asked.
He raised his eyebrows as to imply that it was impossible to imagine that Alex wasn’t drinking coffee. He was so expressive that Alex had to laugh.
“I heard you laughing and hoped that meant that the coffee was ready,” Raz asked from the doorway to the kitchen.
“The pot is done,” Alex said.
“The pot?” Raz asked. “What did you say?”
“You see! Even your beloved Raz cannot believe it,” Claire said in English. She laughed. “Get to work. Frederick? Aider!”
Frederick jumped up to help Alex. Within a few minutes, they got her old espresso machine oiled and ready to work. Raz sat down at the bar to wait. She set the latte in front of him, and he smiled.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“From?” Alex asked, her eyebrows dipped.
“Nom de Dieu,” Claire said with a shake of her head.
“You mean to say that you came here for me, not Helene?” Alex asked.
Claire nodded while Helene and Frederick
laughed. Claire grabbed Alex and kissed her cheek.
“Wow,” Alex said. She caught Raz’s eye and mouthed, “Sorry.”
He gave a soft shrug.
“Have some espresso, dude,” Frederick said in a painful imitation of a Californian accent. He added in American mangled French, “C’est bon.”
Alex’s hands knew the way. They moved over the machine with ease and speed until everyone had at least one coffee and she had finished her third Macchiato. At some point, John came into say “goodbye.” When everyone had had enough, she retired to the basement to hang out with her team and their families. She felt like she’d never laughed as much.
She was playing poker on the couch, sitting between Matthew, and Troy with Trece and White Boy across from them, when she knew what she wanted to do.
The only way to continue this life with these men was to leave the military. They would retire as requested and continue on as contractors. It was the only way that it would work.
Grinning at herself for making the decision, she laid down the winning hand, and they moaned. Rather than take her winnings, she donated them back to the table and got up. She wandered from person to person until she reached her office. Alex turned on her computer and clicked through to the phone line set up on the darknet. She dialed the number from the dream.
“Hello?” a voice she knew better than her own asked.
“Maxi?” Alex whispered.
She sucked in a breath against the very real possibility that it was not him.
“Alex?” Max asked. “Is that you? Finally!”
Tears of relief in simply hearing his voice rolled down her face.
“Oh, Maxi,” Alex said through her tears.
F
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sunday evening
November 6 — 4:11 p.m. PST
Oceanside, California
Standing in the middle of her kitchen, Alex wondered if they had enough food for dinner or if she should ask John to stop on his way home. She contemplated all manner of dishes until she settled on barbecue. The day had warmed, and the kids were playing in the pool. She bent to look in the freezer when the door to the kitchen swung open.
“Alex?” Quanshay’s voice asked. Quanshay, US Navy Chief Petty Officer Royce Tubman’s wife, couldn’t see Alex because the freezer drawer was behind the bar counter. “Alex?”
Alex stood up from the freezer.
“I was trying to figure out what we could have for dinner,” Alex said.
Quanshay laughed out loud.
“Good Lord, why?” Quanshay asked as she came toward Alex.
Alex gawked at the woman.
“You know that I love you,” Quanshay said. Alex nodded. “You are no domestic goddess.”
“I . . .” Not sure how to respond, Alex gave Quanshay a starched smile.
“I’d heard you weren’t acting like yourself, but I had no idea that it had gotten this far,” Quanshay said.
Quanshay laughed again. Alex squinted at the woman.
“What are you saying?” Alex asked.
Quanshay raised her eyebrows and looked Alex full in the face. Her eyes flicked to Alex’s scalp, her hands, and the cotton dress Alex was wearing.
“In the years that I’ve known you, I’ve never known you spend even a minute thinking about meals, let alone eat something yourself,” Quanshay said. “I mean, look at yourself, Alex! You’re skin and bones. Do you honestly think you are the best person to even think about what regular people might eat?”
“I . . .” Alex said. She tipped her head to the side. “Never?”
“No,” Quanshay shook her head. “Your Cian would call me or one of the girls, and we’d work it out. I’m not saying you can’t cook. I’ve seen you make the things Cian tells you to make. I’m saying that I’ve never known you to plan out a meal.”
Alex scowled. Quanshay’s eyebrows dropped in imitation of Alex’s scowl.
“Really?” Alex asked. “Never?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Quanshay said. “I would not lie to you.”
“No wonder I suck at it,” Alex said with a laugh. “I’ve been standing here for . . .”
“A good while, I’d guess,” Quanshay said with a laugh. “Now, don’t you worry. We’ve got you covered.”
“You do?” Alex asked.
“Of course,” Quanshay said. “The other girls went home to make something. We’re meeting back here at five. I was on my way when John called to tell me that there’s a bison roast in the freezer.”
“There is?” Alex asked.
“So you know what a bison roast looks like?” Quanshay asked.
“Now that you mention it,” Alex said with a smile.
Chuckling, Quanshay opened the freezer drawer and took out the roast.
“We can set it out for defrosting. If we need it for dinner, it will have started.”
“And the rest?” Alex asked.
“Do you care?” Quanshay asked.
“Um . . .” Alex said.
“My Royce says that you have one of the best minds in the modern military, the best he’s ever seen,” Quanshay said. “Why are you in here wondering what people will eat? Especially this crowd. Even the youngest among us is well trained to eat anything that’s set in front of them. Worst case, we’ll order a dozen pizzas, and they’ll be happy as punch.”
Alex smiled at her. Quanshay impulsively hugged Alex.
“I’m off my game,” Alex said as they moved apart.
“That’s a fact,” Quanshay said.
Quanshay opened a few cabinets until she found a serving plate large enough to put under the roast.
“I’m sorry Quanshay, but . . .”
“For what?” Quanshay asked. “You sure are sorry a lot.”
“Catholic guilt,” Alex said.
“Mmm,” Quanshay said. “Let’s make a deal. You don’t ever have to be sorry around me unless I come to you with a grievance.”
“Deal,” Alex said with a nod.
“You were saying?” Quanshay asked.
“I don’t remember talking to you about your visit with my friend Nathan’s mother, Mrs. Johnson,” Alex said.
“That’s because we haven’t talked about it,” Quanshay said. “In fact, no one has even asked. Now, I know why.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been standing in this kitchen trying to pound your bony, square-pegged sparkly ass into that nice white round hole,” Quanshay said.
Alex grinned.
“You are never going to fit, Alex,”Quanshay said with a snort.
She gestured to Alex’s manicured acrylic nails.
“Why don’t you let me help you take that off?” Quanshay asked.
“What’s wrong with them?” Alex asked. She looked at her hands. “My mom took me to her manicurist.”
“Exactly,” Quanshay said.
“You have them!” Alex said.
“I’m me, and you are you,” Quanshay said. “I plan meals and have pretty nails. You plan military actions and don’t have nails. They aren’t you.”
Alex looked at Quanshay and blushed.
“If I pound harder, my square ass just might fit,” Alex said.
Quanshay burst out laughing.
“You sit right there,” Quanshay gestured to the barstools at the kitchen counter. “I used to do nails before Royce and I married. I can fix those.”
Quanshay looked around the kitchen and then went to a drawer. She opened the drawer and took out nail polish remover, tweezer, nail clippers, and a nail file.
“How did you know where those were?” Alex asked.
“That’s where Cian keeps his,” Quanshay said. “I bet you didn’t know that.”
Alex shook her head.
“See what I mean?” Quanshay asked. “I assume that he set up this kitchen.”
Alex nodded. She gestured with the nail polish remover.
“Don’t tell him I told you, but this is a main ingredient in his special recipes
,” Quanshay said.
“Really?” Alex asked.
“No,” Quanshay laughed. “This is what I’m saying — you don’t have any idea if nail polish is used in food.”
“I really suck at this,” Alex sighed.
“Oh, honey,” Quanshay hugged Alex. “Don’t be sad. It’s just not your thing. Around my dinner table, I’ve heard a lot of important men talk about how you. Most people would give their eye teeth to have the skills you have, and you’ve used those skills to help your team save a lot of people.”
Quanshay gestured to a barstool, and Alex sat down. Quanshay took the one next to her and started to work.
“Some of them say it’s because of your important father,” Quanshay said. “Of course, the girl can’t be amazing on her own — there has to be a man who made her shine.”
Quanshay rolled her eyes.
“Some say it’s your brother, Max,” Quanshay said.
“Another man,” Alex said.
“I am always so proud just to know you,” Quanshay said. “Proud that Royce is on your team. Even with the struggles, injuries, and problems he’s had since he started. We’re proud to be a part of the Fey Team.”
Alex grinned.
“How did it go with Nathan’s mother?” Alex asked.
Quanshay gave a slow shake of her head. She picked up the clippers and clipped off the ends of Alex’s nails.
“She’s grieving,” Quanshay said. “I see it in the other Fey wives. Those men must have been pretty amazing to have so many great women miss them so very much.”
“I thought so,” Alex said with a soft shrug.
“I know you did,” Quanshay said. “Let’s see. Royce and I went to see Ms. Johnson. She has a lovely home. And . . .”
Quanshay sighed.
“I asked her about her white son, and she began to weep. She said that she raised the child because his family didn’t want anything to do with him. He was her child, her beautiful boy. And it was not easy. He had a lot of trouble with schoolwork. She spent many a night working through his homework with him. Because he was so much trouble, she couldn’t work as much. They struggled. Nathan sent home what he could, but it was tough.”
“It sounds hard,” Alex said.
“She said it was worth it because they were so close,” Quanshay said. “They were so close that Mrs. Johnson was sure the boy was a homosexual. Then, one day, it all reversed.”
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