Promises to Keep

by Kathryn Shay

  She went back to work. At this point she was considering an article maybe for The New Yorker, but who knew? Depending on how much information she could gather, she might turn it into a book, which she’d dedicate to Conrad. In either case, she’d show all those dickheads at the Times what they’d lost.

  Someday she’d be as successful as Suzanna.

  Whom Brenda had never told why she’d left New York’s foremost newspaper.

  How could she tell perfect Suzanna that her never-good-enough friend had a drinking problem and had neglected to check facts on an article about a daycare scandal? Her faux pas had caused the Times to pay megabucks to prevent a lawsuit. Needless to say, Brenda had been fired. She still remembered the editor’s words...

  “You’re a tough broad, Brenda. And a good reporter. I’d keep you on if I could, but you blew it big-time. Get help with the drinking. Since Conrad’s death you haven’t been the same...”

  She’d gotten help. After several days in a bourbon haze, she’d gone to a recovery spa in Pennsylvania, endured the agony of drying out, then came to Fairholm because Suzanna was here. She’d started drinking again to avoid dying of boredom, but she had it under control.

  She typed. Is it ethical for the government to infiltrate schools? Is it the press’s responsibility to make known what’s happening? Can we allow these Nazi tactics?

  Conrad would answer, We know it’s not ethical, kiddo.

  Suzanna had said he was a father figure to her. Father. We know about your father Suzanna. Brenda scribbled a note to find out what happened to Nathan Carson. She could probably get it out of Suzanna, but she didn’t want to pressure her. Thursday night her friend had looked stunned and fragile.

  Now, how was Brenda going to document her facts?

  Go on the Internet. Download Secret Service research.

  Would she be able to get any background on Stonehouse and Ludzecky? Maybe she could hire a PI to find out about them. Spies spying on spies. It had a certain poetic justice to it. A section of the book could be on the men who go undercover and dupe the public. Maybe one of them had something juicy in his background.

  Go to archives, get information on Speck Richie’s arrest. The incident during which she’d met Stonehouse might say something about the mysterious agent.

  By noon, Brenda had filled several pages with notes. She felt almost intoxicated with delight. “Hallelujah,” she sang to the computer as she hit the Print button.

  Brenda Way was once again on the road to being Brenda Starr. Nobody was going to stop her now.

  o0o

  “That’s it. Good. Good.” The instructor scanned the high-ceilinged room with a bank of windows facing the class participants. Her gaze landed on Brenda. “Brenda, you’re distracted. Steady your mind. Get fully in the present. Slowly ease the tension in your neck and stretch those calf muscles.”

  After another puzzled look from Suzanna, who sprawled out one mat over, Brenda tried to concentrate, tried to find her inner self, but she was jittery and needed a drink. All she could think about was what Suzanna had told her this morning when they’d driven to the Fairholm Community Center together.

  She’d had to pick up her friend because Josh’s car had been vandalized yesterday and Kelsey, who lived closer and often took the same yoga class, was out of town this weekend...

  “All four tires were slashed,” Suzanna had said.

  “Does Stonehouse think it’s related to his business?”

  “He thinks everything is. I have to be back by two.” They usually went out for lunch after their class.

  “Why?” Brenda had forced her eyes to stay on the road, and tried to lighten her grip on the steering wheel.

  “Joe’s coming to the house to go over more of the research with me. To show me the information that made the Secret Service target my school.”

  “Hmm.” Brenda had wondered how she could crash the meeting...

  “Brenda!” Suzanna said, stretching out into a cobra position. “Get with it!”

  Brenda snapped back to the present and elongated her body. Inhaled. Exhaled. Sometimes this yoga helped to calm her, and sometimes she had so much time to think during the class, she had to take a Valium when she got home.

  After an interminable hour, the class ended. As they headed to the showers, Suzanna asked, “What was wrong with you today? You’re normally high-strung, but rarely this bad.”

  Brenda said, “I’m distracted.”

  Suzanna arched a brow as she pulled open the locker room door. Her maroon Spandex leggings and matching top highlighted the color in her cheeks, though she looked tired today.

  Inside, Brenda was assaulted by the smell of disinfectant, reminding her of her days as a hotel maid when she’d worked her way through college. “It’s because of what we found out Thursday.”

  Her eyes wide, Suzanna scanned the lockers and benches. “Shh. I don’t think we should talk about it here.”

  “Sorry.”

  But she wasn’t sorry. The public had a right to know what the government was up to, and newspapers had made an implicit promise to the masses to inform them. It was Brenda’s duty, no matter what the cost. It was the duty of all newspaper reporters.

  o0o

  “No, it’s not going to happen.” Digging his hands into the khaki slacks he wore with a forest green crewneck sweater and a black T-shirt underneath, Joe Stonehouse stood in Suzanna’s den and scowled darkly. He looked good, Brenda thought, dressed casually for a change. Sexy.

  Suzanna glanced at Brenda. Nervously, she stuck her own hands in the back pockets of the jeans she wore with a beige cashmere sweater and low-heeled boots. She’d been at a loss for words since Brenda had followed her in, and waited for Joe to show up. “I think—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think, Suzanna,” Joe interrupted, casting her an impatient glance. “I won’t discuss the case with her here. What’s more, you shouldn’t be discussing it either.”

  “I’m here, Stonehouse. Don’t talk about me as if I’m not.” God, Brenda hated it when men did that to her. It had happened a lot at the Times.

  “You won’t be here long.” The man was cool and unflappable. Did anything get him juiced up?

  Brenda plopped down on one of the sofas in Suzanna’s den and stared at the rows of bookshelves. She sipped her bottled water, wishing it was gin. “I think this should be Suzanna’s call.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “That I’m in charge here. Suzanna has no say in this.”

  “Yeah, you’re doing a great job, Agent Stonehouse. Somebody slashed her tires last night right under your nose.”

  He whirled around and faced Suzanna, who leaned against her teak desk. “Did you tell her that?”

  Suzanna raised her chin in a defiant gesture. “She’s my best friend, Joe. I always confide in her when I’m upset.”

  “As of now, you confide in no one but me.”

  Brenda studied the guy. He looked ready to spring into action at any minute. He was tense, alert. But there was something about the way he was with Suzanna, a softening, that she’d noted on Thursday night, too.

  Stonehouse’s autocracy got Suzanna’s back up, as Brenda knew it would. All she had to do was bait him, and she’d get what she wanted. Another thing Conrad had taught her.

  “Isn’t that a little extreme?” Suzanna’s tone was irritated. “I still have a life, you know.”

  “Not until this whole operation is finished, you don’t.”

  “I think it’s extreme,” Brenda put in. “You sound like we’re on the verge of Armageddon, here.”

  “Ms. Way, I don’t really care what you think.”

  You will.

  She transferred her gaze to Suzanna. The woman looked torn. It was only two in the afternoon, and she seemed about to collapse. A memory came to Brenda, of Suzanna staying up all night with her when Brenda had had an abortion in college and was sick from it.

  She woul
dn’t make a sacrificial lamb out of her friend now. So she stood and grabbed her purse. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

  “Brenda, I...”

  “It’s okay, Suz. I’ll call you later to see how you are.” She faced Joe. “You could have given Hitler lessons, Stonehouse. But I’m not afraid of you. I’m leaving for Suzanna’s sake.”

  Stonehouse glared at her.

  Did he believe her? Now, or earlier, about her interest in the case? Brenda would have to be careful. Stonehouse wasn’t a babe in the woods like Suzanna.

  She left her friend with a peck on the cheek and a promise to call. Outside, she made a promise to herself. She was going to get back on top of her profession if it killed her.

  o0o

  Suzanna held herself stiffly as she watched Brenda leave the house. She was trying desperately not to overreact because she had the safety of fourteen hundred kids, nearly two hundred staff members, and herself and her son to consider. She stood by the window and took deep breaths.

  Joe Stonehouse was just doing his job. Though it didn’t set well, she needed him. Getting angry would be counterproductive. As Lawrence always said, Do what you have to do, love.

  So she turned to face the agent. The green sweater, stretched tautly across his chest, turned his eyes the color of wet grass. She wondered if the wool was as soft as it looked.

  Jamming his hands in his pockets again, he leaned back on his heels. “You can let me have it any time.” His words were sober, but tinged with something. Acceptance, maybe. She wondered if he was ever lonely.

  “Do you have any family besides your sister, Joe?” she asked.

  His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Just her and her other two kids. Her husband, Al.”

  “Your parents are dead?”

  “Yes. But they weren’t...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Suzanna wanted to probe, but also wanted to know something else. “Did you ever marry?”

  “Once. I’m divorced. She was a good woman, and it wasn’t her fault. An agent’s life isn’t conducive to nurturing a relationship. Word on the street has it that the divorce rate for the Secret Service hovers around eighty-five percent.” He stared over her shoulders, sadness etched on his strong features. “My niece who was killed was the closest thing to a daughter I’ll ever have, I guess.”

  Wrapping her arms around her waist, Suzanna said, “My parents are dead, too.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh. Of course you do.” They exchanged a meaningful stare. “Since my brother lives in Arizona, I don’t see much of him. Lawrence was an only child.” She glanced toward the window again. “Brenda’s always been like family to me, especially since Lawrence died.”

  Awareness dawned in his eyes, darkening them. “I’m sorry she has to be cut out of this.”

  “And Kelsey, too. She’s the daughter I never had. It’s hard to deceive her. There are a lot of trust issues with her.”

  “It’s an unfortunate situation all around. I’m sorry you have to go through this alone.”

  She turned back to the window. Though her cashmere sweater was warm, she felt chilled. “It’s one of the worst things about being widowed at forty-three. Josh is going off to college this fall. I haven’t been careful to build a wide circle of friends. Just Brenda and Kelsey, really.”

  “You’ve been busy running a school.” His voice had taken on an edge. She recognized it, now, since she’d heard it before. It was protective. Defensive. Of her.

  The thought warmed her, made her feel less alone.

  “I don’t want to hurt Brenda. Or lose her as a friend.”

  She felt, rather than heard, him come up behind her. “Don’t you think that if she’s really your friend, she’ll understand this exclusion is necessary?”

  Suzanna shrugged. “I don’t know. Brenda’s tough to figure out. She’s had a hard life. She’s had to scrap for everything—material things, grades, a good job. Nothing’s come easy for her, like it did for me.” She smiled wistfully. “I always wondered why we stayed friends. We’re so different. Except for our belief in honesty and integrity.”

  “Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend.” His voice grew tender.

  That, more than anything, made her posture droop, her body let down; fatigue washed over her. Had he seen it? Was that why his hands came up to clasp her shoulders?

  She should have startled at his touch. But, like yesterday, it seemed familiar, seemed right, which she knew in her head was crazy. But her heart was reacting. To let it, was even crazier.

  “Trust me, Suzanna.” His mouth was close to her ear. “I realize this is difficult. But we’ve got to do it my way. For your safety. For the safety of hundreds.”

  “I know.”

  She shuddered, and his hands tightened on her.

  “I can help,” he said. “I can preclude a violent incident, if you’ll work with me. Do it my way. Please.”

  Biting her lip, backstopping the emotion, she whispered, “I will. Of course I will.”

  For a moment, he drew her back against his body. It was lean and muscled and very male. Swamped by his heat, by his woodsy, masculine scent, she was drawn to him. He squeezed her shoulders, then stepped back and crossed to the other side of the room.

  Her equilibrium spun off, the way it had once when she’d gone on Space Mountain at Disney World with Josh. She waited until the disorientation passed, then pivoted around. His Secret Service mask was in place. His face was stony, like his name.

  “Where should we start?” she asked, more in control, probably as much because of his demeanor as his physical distance.

  “Let’s talk about the process here for a minute.” He nodded toward his briefcase. “I think I can make you feel better about all of it.” He went to the couch, sat down, and patted the cushion. “Come on over here. I can use your help.”

  Studying him, she approached the sofa. “That’s good to hear.”

  They sat side by side on the couch. He removed a tablet from his briefcase and put on his glasses. “First, I want you to see what you’re doing right. This list addresses the physical layout at Fairholm. It squares with the recommendations of the psychologists: no overcrowding, small classes, wide, lighted hallways.” He repositioned the tablet.

  She read along with him. “Oh, Joe. I can’t do some of this.”

  “What, specifically?”

  “Here. The Department of Education says to close the campus during lunch, have the kids wear uniforms, get police inside the building.”

  “I agree with the first one. Your students shouldn’t be allowed to go off-site for lunch.”

  She sighed. “The faculty was divided on that, too.”

  “It’s not safe, Suzanna. We have to discuss ways to rectify things like this.” He smiled over at her. “Remember, I said that we’ll put some things in place before we go.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s one of the recommendations we’ll make. And we’ll want to in-service the staff. Talk openly about safe schools.”

  “Without telling them who you are?”

  “Yes. Usually my cover is that I worked on a task force with the Department of Education, and you recently learned of my expertise. And since the state came out with their new Code of Conduct last year, and with other guidelines to effect a safe school, this shouldn’t be too out of place.”

  “Sounds logical. What other changes should we be making?”

  “Better monitoring in the halls and high-traffic areas.”

  “I’m always on the teachers to be in the halls between classes.”

  “Maybe if they see it as a safety issue, they’ll do it more.”

  “What else?”

  “Stagger dismissal times.”

  “That could be a nightmare.”

  “I’ve got software to help figure it out. We also have to establish areas where kids can go if a crisis occurs.”

  She drew in a breath. “It’s so dramatic.”

  �
��You’ve already got a crisis evacuation plan in place. And the state is tending toward mandatory drills to practice the plan.”

  She buried her head in her hands. “Foolproof communication. Maneuvers, drills. It sounds like a police state.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he added, “And we need to talk about bullying. Your school should adopt a zero tolerance policy for it. I have an outline of what kids should do if they’re bullied and what teachers can do to stop it.”

  Searching deep inside herself, she straightened. “All right. I’ll consider anything to keep the kids safe.” Nodding to the tablet, she raised her chin. “Let’s see how we do all this.”

  o0o

  By five, she’d had it. Joe had planned to review the risk factors and discuss the students he was targeting, but he decided Suzanna couldn’t handle any more. When she excused herself to get coffee, he stood and crossed to the tall étagère on a far wall. Early evening shadows made crisscross patterns on the glass shelves, and he fingered their cool, smooth surface.

  Frankly, he’d had it, too. Usually he reviewed the stats for administrators with professional detachment. But he couldn’t summon a neutral attitude today.

  One reason was because she’d asked him about his family. How ironic. He dug into everybody’s background and knew their seediest secrets, yet no one knew his. Even he and Ruthie never talked about their unorthodox upbringing in the commune culture.

  A culture that had almost destroyed him.

  Dragging his thoughts away from his own life, he concentrated on Suzanna’s, partly displayed before him. But as he studied Josh’s basketball trophies, as well as Suzanna’s teaching degrees and commendations, his mind wasn’t on the accolades. Instead he saw her pale face when she realized Josh’s car had been vandalized, heard her struggle to be brave with the Triple A people, watched her go through the motions until he could drive her home.

  They’d come straight here…

  “Thanks,” she’d said, reaching for the car door handle.

  “I’m coming in for a minute. I want to check out the house.”

  If possible, her face got even paler. He was sorry for upsetting her further, but her safety was at stake. He’d entered the house first, checked all three floors, and made sure doors and windows were locked. “Put the alarm on as soon as I leave.”