The Last Family

33

Reid was snoring. Laura had lain awake for what seemed like hours before she took any action other than closing her eyes and trying to ignore the rhythmic sound. She nudged him and applied pressure until he rolled from his back onto his side. That usually worked. He snored when he drank, which was rare, and when the pollen count was high, or maybe it was something weather and plant related. She didn’t want to wake him until she had to get him moving before the kids woke up. Once she had explained the relationship to them, they had more or less accepted it. She wanted to sleep, but she found that she had opened the door and allowed thoughts and anxieties to enter. She had to face the fact that sleep was not going to be rejoined.

Laura didn’t know why, but since she had learned Paul was out of Montana, she hadn’t felt the same about Reid. Some spark was gone, but maybe when this nightmare was over, things would return to the way they had been. But for the first time in their relationship she was ashamed that they were sleeping together. Maybe it was because of the danger. She thought of Paul more and more-all the time. Obsessed with the unobtainable. The man abandoned us physically and emotionally. Or did we abandon his needs? She wanted to feel angry, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t thought for a long time that she could still be in love with Paul. Was it possible?

She got out of bed without waking Reid, dressed for work, and left the room with Wolf leading the way. She would have moved past Reb’s room except for the fact that there was a sliver of shimmering light at the bottom of the door, which signaled that the TV set was on. Reb often fell asleep with the set turned on. She reached in to turn off the television and found her son illuminated by the glow of a black-and-white western. He was perched on the window box staring out the window, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Reb?” she said. “Do you know what time it is?” She approached the child, who didn’t move. “Reb, are you okay?”

“I don’t understand why,” he said, his lip quivering. “What did we do to him to make him hate us? I was just little.”

She hugged Reb to her chest and looked out at the wall of bamboo where the sleeping blackbirds were staggered like musical notes. “Your father doesn’t hate you or me or Erin either. He loves you and Erin very much. Your father is in pain, Reb.”

Reb pushed away so he could look into Laura’s eyes. “In pain? Why doesn’t he take something?”

“His pain is beyond medicine, Reb. See, I think he feels guilty because his career is over, and because two of his men were killed when he got hurt. Two young men that he felt responsible for. He thought he should have been more careful. I think somehow he’s punishing himself by keeping away from us. But he loves you guys.”

“And you, too?”

“In his own way.”

“And Mr. Greer was with him?”

“Thorne was there. In fact, he saved your father’s life.”

“Why does that man want to kill us?”

“Some people are just crazy.”

“If Daddy doesn’t hate us, why isn’t he here? He could still be here-where they are. You know, across the street.”

“He can do more where he is.”

“One time you told me that he didn’t get his face fixed because it would hurt too much. But Erin said Daddy didn’t get his face fixed because he didn’t want to.”

“The doctors I spoke to thought he wouldn’t get his face fixed because of guilt. They said he was using it as a way to punish himself because of what happened to two agents who were with him, the ones that were killed. He left us because he couldn’t believe he deserved to be happy. So he deprived himself of the things he loved best. The people who loved him best he tried to drive away, too, and when he couldn’t, he left.”

“You believe that?”

“I believe he might have used his disfigurement to cut himself off from the things he loved. That could have been fixed, land he knew it. We loved him and he knew that, too. I know he didn’t want to be loved.” But what about the night before he left? What did that do? Laura pushed the thought back down.

“He said that?”

“No. But I know your father really well, and I think he covered up his real feelings. He probably doesn’t know why he did what he did any more than we do.”

“Maybe we should tell him that.”

“Waste of breath. Your father doesn’t see that he’s selfish. He doesn’t want to share his pain with us. Maybe time will heal him. But, Reb, one thing is certain. Your father doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t know you, and that’s his loss, not yours. We have to go on with our lives. Put him behind us.”

“What about Reid?”

“I don’t know. Let’s wait and see. Now, go to bed.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started. “Reid’s a nice guy and all, but it isn’t the same thing. He could never be my own father.”

Laura kissed her son on the forehead and went out. Wolf, seemingly pleased that a trip was in the making, licked her hand as they walked down the hall toward the staircase.

No, Reid couldn’t be your father. Not any more than he could be my husband.

Reb climbed out of the bed and knelt beside it. He folded his hands on the sheet and closed his eyes. “Dear God, please bless Mama, Erin, Reid, Wolf, and the men watching. Please talk to my daddy and tell him… we love him very much. Tell him we want to be together again. I’ll do anything you want me to if you’ll help me just this once. I know I ask you for stuff all the time, but I won’t bother you about other stuff if you’ll let Daddy come back and let the bad man go away and leave us alone. Me and Erin need our daddy. I do so I’ll know how I’m supposed to act when I grow up. And he needs us so he won’t mind getting old and so his heart will stay warmed up.”

He paused, thinking for a few seconds.

“God, I’m real sorry I was mean to him on the phone, but it was hurting my heart. He’s my daddy and I just want him back, and I don’t care if his face is all messed up or anything. Really. We all do, even Erin, and even if she won’t ever admit it cause she thinks she’s tough. I know how busy you are, so thank you for listening, sir. Amen.”

Reb climbed into his sleeping bag and put his thumb in his mouth and lay there with his eyes open, wondering if the message had got through with all the millions of other prayers that were making their way to God’s ear.

The agents had moved back across the street after Laura and Reid had returned. Thorne Greer was sitting with the earphones in place watching the perimeter of the Masterson house on the monitors as the camera views were alternated every five seconds. He wasn’t aware that he was watching until something moved on a screen. He watched as a cat jumped over the wall, and then he tracked the animal’s progress until it disappeared into the tall grass beside the path. Woody and Sean were asleep on the twin beds across the bedroom. As he listened to Reb’s prayer again, he prayed silently for the son he had lost in the canal. A son who could never kneel and pray for his father. And he prayed that Reb’s prayer be answered.

Thorne waited until Reb was back in bed for a few minutes to shift in his own chair. It was as if he thought he would disturb the boy by moving. Thorne poured another cup of coffee from the pot and sat back.

He looked over at Woody and Sean, who were sound asleep. How much help would they be when Martin came at them? This was their first job together. Woody was often silent, strange around the edges. His sense of humor seemed forced, as if jokes were something he saw as unnecessary. He never really got into the spirit of things the way Sean did. He was detached, observing and filing everything away in his mind for future reference or something.

Sean, the proverbial baby face, was another matter. With his game-show host looks, he didn’t seem overly competent. He was short, but the women’s movement and the relaxation of physical minimums had allowed him to enter the agency as an agent in the field. Maybe some disguised skills would show up when they were in a pinch, but by then it might be too late. Sean reminded him somehow of Joe Barnett, one of the rookies killed in Miami. It was then that Thorne realized that all of the agents on this job were single. As far as he knew, there wasn’t a husband, a wife, or even a serious relationship in the bunch.

Woody and Sean had certainly never discussed girlfriends, beyond making boastful conversation about their conquests. Sean and his father shared a house on an island in Puget Sound and raised bloodhounds. Woody lived alone in Los Angeles but didn’t have a California tan. The only person with a wife or kids was Paul. Thorne realized that Paul didn’t want to have to worry about anyone’s family except his own, and he didn’t want anyone in the field to be worrying about any family other than his either. Were better-qualified agents discarded for that reason? It was a good question, and someday he thought he might confront Paul with it.

Thorne had serious doubts that he could take Martin in a fair fight. Not that there would be a fair fight, because it was against Martin’s nature. But Thorne would certainly lose if things were within spitting distance of equal. At forty-seven Martin Fletcher would still be in fighting trim. Thorne wasn’t, however he might look to the untrained eye. Fighting trim was a way of life-mental, physical, and emotional. Traveling with celebrities, watching party guests, playing volleyball, and working out with weights wasn’t even a good start on it. He worked out at a gym three times a week, and he could run a few miles without passing out, but Martin was a different story. Martin was the sort that had to be taken by surprise, from ambush.