“For the minutes, please mark all risk mitigation steps complete as of today’s date,” Ruth instructed loudly.
“Lastly, what about attacks-have the number continue to increase?” Ruth asked.
Saraceni jumped in, since his crew had been monitoring the increase in attacks very closely, “They have continued to increase,” he relayed, “but their strategy still appears to be more broad, not focused on our priority targets.” The remaining items in the briefing were fairly routine in comparison, and as the team marched through them in promulgated order they concluded that all major milestones of the project were on schedule and they were ready for the arrival of the new training series, and most importantly, for the arrival of training class Molior. A few moments shy of the conclusion of the briefing, Kennedy entered the room unscheduled. All eyes turned from the octagonal display to the door.
“Excuse me, E. Fielding, but you asked to be informed immediately according to your instructions for the surveillance team, “Kennedy broached cautiously. As a Circle 2 also, he felt no more comfortable in this audience than Wood or Stone did.
“Yes, yes,” Ruth encouraged him gently. “What news do you bring?”
“There’s been an accident,” Kennedy responded.
Chapter 4
Lela gave up on her feeble attempts at sleep at 5:42 am and shuffled her slippers along the hardwood floor via dragging motion as she moved from the bedroom to the sofa in the living room. She flopped down as if the 50 foot journey had sapped every ounce of available strength. She flipped on CNN out of habit and stared at the screen vaguely digesting the morning’s news. Lela pulled her slippered feet up onto the sofa and curled into a ball under a fleece blanket still there from the day before.
Today was three days from the date of the accident. “Wednesday” Lela muttered to herself, not feeling as if it mattered but her brain pushing forward through the logic as a computer trying to finish an already-running program, “No, Thursday,” she corrected herself. Once through the financial news, the coverage returned to news of the accident and the same “iconic” shot of the bus going through the guardrail and over the edge. Lela pounced on the remote and hit ‘last’ to change the channel before she heard one word of the news coverage. A reality show appeared and Lela stared blankly as the participants argued. “Now I know why people like this stuff,” she continued muttering to herself, “you don’t really have to think.” Realizing what she was doing, Lela added, “and now I’m talking to myself” and turned off the television in disgust.
She shuffled to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The large appliance was packed full of covered dishes from friends, neighbors, family acquaintances. There was barely any room left. “Why do people always want to feed you?” Lela asked herself, “as if I could eat.” But, for the first time in 3 days, Lela was slightly hungry. Eventually the body would win out over the apathy and today was the day. “Still talking to yourself,” she chided as she poured some orange juice and ate two bites of cold spaghetti. Her stomach rejoiced at the heaviness of it and she added two more bites before returning the casserole dish to the fridge and throwing the fork in the sink. Taking her orange juice with her, Lela shuffled to her reading chair in her office and flopped there, staring out the window for 15 minutes while sipping her juice like a small child. Today was the day of the funeral and part of Lela didn’t care, but her responsible nature took over by default as she realized she wanted to make sure there was a nice service for her family.
Lela abruptly switched into a very efficient mode, thinking of what needed to be done, distracting herself from distracting herself. She noticed a blinking light on the answering machine on the edge of her desk and reached long in a contorted fashion in order to hit play without having to actually arise from the chair. Three messages of condolence from friends, each one sounding a little more concerned. She hadn’t spoken to a single soul except her best friend since the accident; avoiding everyone and not returning calls was certainly allowed. She hid in her room the days before as her best friend, Bianca, made apologies, accepted flowers and covered dishes, made funeral arrangements, basically took care of everything. Of course, Lela was presented with a series of choices that she cared nothing about-flowers, casket styles and responded to most by just pointing at one picture or another that Bianca presented to her. Mr. Aquila’s company had a grief assistance group that had offered to manage most of the details, and Lela gratefully let them, keeping her involvement to a bare minimum through the conduit of Bianca.
The messages continued with one from one of her parent’s closest friends, another man Mr. Aquila used to work with, Mr. Charles, “Lela, hello, this is Peter Charles. I know I left a message yesterday, honey, but I really do need to speak with you before the service. It’s very important. Mrs. Charles and I also wanted you to know that if you need anything, to please just call us. Anything at all.” Lela felt guilty for not calling him back yesterday, knowing that he, too, was under great duress from the loss of his closest friends. Lela began searching the room for the cordless phone as the final message played, “Lela, hi, it’s James. Bianca called me. I’m so sorry,” he sounded very upset, “I’m scheduled to arrive at 10 am and I’ll call Bianca and find out where to meet up with you guys to go to the service. Um, call me if there’s anything I can do or bring that would help.” Lela stood frozen and stared at the phone. She hadn’t seen James Matthews in about 18 months and suddenly felt slightly more peaceful just knowing he would be there. She dialed Mr. Charles and, after apologizing, agreed to meet him at the funeral home a full hour before the service. He was reluctant to talk over the phone and insisted that he needed to speak to her in person.
Lela selected a black suit from her cedar closet, picking the one she liked the least as she planned to give it to charity after today. She knew she could not bear ever wearing it again. Bianca had arrived and sat on the bed as Lela got ready.
“Don’t worry, L, everything is set for today,” Bianca offered sympathetically.
“Thanks, Bee,” Lela responded half-heartedly as she combed her hair. As Lela rummaged through her make-up bag for Chap Stick, Bianca offered more advice just to keep the conversation going. She knew Lela well enough to know there was nothing she could say or do that would make today any easier, but just being there was a commitment to their friendship that was really more like a sisterhood.
“No eye make-up today, hon, you’ll just cry it off,” Bianca reminded.
“I don’t cry in front of people,” Lela’s rote reply expressed her long-standing rule.
“I know, L, but Ecclesiastes-there’s a time and place. You’re certainly allowed to cry today.” Bianca put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. Lela just set her jaw stubbornly. She was trying not to cry even then. Today would be hard. The doorbell rang and Bianca moved toward the door. The bell jolted Lela out of her half-dazed state and it was the first time that day she thought of Gretchen and Caleb.
“Bianca, I forgot to tell Gretchen to meet us here,” Lela started to get upset that her forgetfulness might add to Gretchen’s distress.
“I took care of it yesterday when you first mentioned it,” Bianca responded as she walked out of the room to answer the front door. Lela heard the faint mutterings of two voices and, though muffled and distant, she instantly knew James was there. She sat motionless on her bed and felt the mixed feelings triggered by his presence. She was so grateful to have him there; he always made her feel safe somehow, but she also was nervous to see him after so long and had been somewhat angry with him for his limited contact, as if she didn’t matter to him at all. She took a deep breath and hoisted herself off the bed with all energy, as if her body weighed a ton.
As soon as Lela saw James, it was like no time had passed at all. She hugged him a hug that both wished could last forever and immediately felt a little lighter. James touched her hair briefly and then abruptly took one large step backward. He didn’t want to add in any way to her emotional distress, so r
eminded himself not to crowd her, though he wanted to. Lela looked at him strangely and turned to Bianca.
“What time do we have to leave?” she queried.
“To get there an hour early, about 10 minutes or so. Oh look, Gretchen just pulled up. I’ll go see if I can help her.” Lela and James stood alone in the room and she stared at the floor.
“I’m so sorry, Lela. I just can’t believe they’re gone. I meant to come home at Christmas. I just wish I was here for a happier occasion,” he said. Lela felt a flash of anger at him ‘yeah, me, too’ she thought to herself, but that paled in comparison to the gratitude she felt for him being there and she raised her eyes to meet his and kept herself from crying or showing emotion.
“I’m just glad you’re here,” Lela affirmed. Bianca reentered, followed by Gretchen and Caleb. Gretchen’s eyes looked hollow and her hand held Caleb’s tiny hand as he rolled in behind her like a wagon she was pulling. Caleb, who Lela had always seen a happy, playful boy, was silent. Lela suddenly was more upset at seeing them upset, as if she could keep herself in control so long as no one was around, but being confronted with the ghostly shell of Gretchen and knowing that she must look the same, she had to admit that none of them would ever be the same again. She turned away abruptly and picked up her bag.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Lela said. Gretchen wondered at that moment if Lela even wanted her there. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. The invitation to drive over came from Bianca after all; maybe she was just being nice. She missed Gabriel, who always served as the intermediary in situations like this with his family.
“We can follow in our car,” Gretchen offered, suddenly feeling once again like an outsider. It was important to Lela that they all go together. This was the only person on the planet that felt even a shred of the grief she was feeling and, for that, she felt closer to Gretchen.
“We have plenty of room,” Lela replied, grabbing her keys. James took them from her wordlessly and locked the door as the pseudo-family made their way to the car. James opened the doors and put each passenger in. Adjusting the seat back to accommodate his long legs, he bashed into Bianca seated behind him.
“Sorry, Bianca,” he offered. Rubbing her knees at the site of impact, Bianca shook her head and tried to lighten the mood slightly.
“You’ve always been jealous of me being closer to Lela than you. Now I see your plan to get me out of the picture.”
“I was never jealous of you, Bee, just all the guys circling,” James joked sincerely.
“Whatever,” Lela said barely audibly, staring out the window. She didn’t have the energy to debate his misconceptions today. They arrived at the funeral home and though it was early, Lela spotted a handful of her parent’s friends gathered on the front steps as well as a few of her own and Gretchen’s parents. They stood in a circle, talking quietly and appearing somber as the occasion prompted. As the group exited the car and walked toward them, the gaggle on the steps broke up and looked toward them with concerned faces. Gretchen’s parents immediately went to Gretchen and Caleb and the boy seemed to brighten a bit as he was lifted by his Grandfather.
“Granddaddy!” Caleb nestled his face in the man’s neck and let himself be carried, which he had not been for the last few years. James walked next to Lela and, as if to brace herself, she hooked her arm into his and held tight. To the outside eye, he appeared more like a boyfriend than a friend. Odd, Lela thought, considering she wasn’t even sure some of the time if he even wanted to be friends. His sporadic communication certainly left room for doubt.
Mr. Charles broke away and approached Lela, “How are you, Lela? Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked again, concerned.
“No thank you. I’m fine, “she lied. Noticing James was still attached to her she added, “Mr. Charles, this is my good friend, James Matthews.” Not wanting to unhook his right arm from Lela’s, James nodded instead of shaking hands and said,
“It’s nice to meet you.” This greeting felt wrong under the circumstances, but James knew not what to say as there was really no way to say ‘I wish I didn’t have to meet you like this.’
“I met you once when you two graduated from college, though there were so many people, I’m sure you don’t remember,” Mr. Charles confirmed. “Please, call me Peter. Lela, I must speak with you alone for a few moments.” He motioned toward a bench on the lawn away from the others.
“Certainly, but anything you have to say to me you can say in front of James,” she said while taking a step, James still by her side, toward the bench.
“Not this,” Peter Charles said, touching her arm gently and darting James an apologetic look. Lela thought nothing of it and released James, giving him a quick nod of affirmation that it was okay. Mr. Charles and Lela sat on the bench and he looked serious. ‘Well, at least there’s no more bad news,” Lela thought, knowing she was already at the very bottom.
“Lela, I’m sorry we don’t have more time to talk. I was trying to reach you so I could do this better, but please just hear what I have to say now and know that I will provide you a more complete explanation later and you can ask any questions you want,” he launched into a pre-prepared speech that rang like one. Getting a bit nervous, Lela looked at him skeptically sideways. He continued, “I know you haven’t cared much about the arrangements, but I’ve worked with your father’s employer to make sure the service will be a suitable remembrance.”
“Bianca took care of most of it, but I did make some selections,” she offered, wondering if he was upset with her for not being more involved.
“That’s fine. Please, don’t worry. You both did an excellent job. I just wanted you to know before the service begins that there were a few aspects of the arrangements that I had to make as Bianca wouldn’t be aware of them.”
“Okay,” Lela replied in a hesitant tone, her open gaze clearly conveying that she didn’t know where this conversation was going.
“Lela, there will be two flags presented to you today. One for your father’s service,” he paused, “and one for your mother’s.” She looked at him confused.
“My mother’s? What are you talking about? My Dad was in for 6 years, but my Mom never served.”
“As I said, I know it’s confusing, and I will explain it all to you later, but they both served until the day they died.” Lela was stunned and thoughts raced as to what more he could possibly share that could explain why her parents hid this for all these years. Still not having the energy for any more than just getting through the day, she said,
“Um, sure. Well, I guess we’ll talk about it later.”
“One more thing, Lela, I’m sorry to put this burden on you, but I wanted you to know the truth. We can’t let people know they were both part of a military science operation until three days ago, especially not until the accident investigation is concluded. If anyone asks why there are two flags, please confirm your Dad’s earlier service and say that your Mom served in her youth, as if everyone knows that. Just make it sound like it was long ago.”
“Okay,” she answered and looked across the lawn at James, who knew from the look on her face that something was wrong. ‘Investigation?’ she thought to herself, and turned to Mr. Charles more forcefully, “Are you telling me that this wasn’t an accident?” her tone was serious. He put an arm around her shoulder, partly to comfort her and partly to keep her quieter,
“We don’t know anything yet, but I do need time to look into it. Could be yes, or could be no-there were many prominent people on that bus. It may have nothing to do with your parents.” Lela swallowed hard and nodded.
“Okay. Well, we’d better be getting inside,” she said and made her way up the lawn, back to James, and then up the steps. As she shook hands with people and absentmindedly received condolences, she noticed some of her and Gabriel’s childhood friends as well an assemblage of quasi-distant relatives and acquaintances. A few remaining people from the project were there, like Captain Willingham. The clipboard ma
n with the green eyes was with the Captain and Lela turned to him.
“Lela, this is Brett Davies,” Captain Willingham attempted the introduction.
“Thank you for your help the other day,” Lela said, and shook his hand firmly instead of the half-hearted handshake she’d been delivering all day. Knowing her well and perceiving the slight difference, James bristled but did not speak. Were it any other occasion, he would have distanced this guy from her.
“My condolences for your loss,” Brett answered briefly and they parted.
As Lela entered the funeral home, she felt overwhelmed by the scene of flowers, pictures and crying family. She pulled harder on James’ arm and, approaching the family row, suddenly began looking for Gretchen. Gretchen stood in the aisle by her parents with Caleb once again holding her hand. She shifted uncomfortably, not really sure where to sit. Her parents had kept a few seats open next to them, about two-thirds of the way back. Lela strode directly to Gretchen and pulled her toward the front,
“You two sit in the family row,” Lela said firmly, seating Gretchen and Caleb in her own row on the other side of James, who hadn’t even asked where he belonged. It was assumed between the two, if only for today. Lela listened throughout the service, intent not to cry, but could not help remain fixated on the two flags representing her parents. ‘There are triangles of fabric where my parents should be,’ she thought, ‘and why didn’t they tell me?’ She wondered if Gabriel had known.
The Cupel Recruits Page 4