Moments In Time (36 page)

“Are you hurt?” someone asked.

“What?” he replied dumbly.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“This way, please, sir. We’ve an ambulance waiting.”

He pushed past the medic and wandered through the sea of reporters and film equipment. The same cameras that only a short twenty-four hours earlier had taped his performance now filmed his staggered steps. Microphones were shoved in his face from a dozen different directions.

“J.D., can you tell us what happened?”

“J.D., what was it like?”

He walked past them, bewildered and barely hearing, and made no response. In the midst of the noise and confusion he saw Maggie’s face and thought he was hallucinating. He knew he must be suffering from shock and told himself it could not be her. But when she reached him and gathered
him into her arms, he knew she was real, that the nightmare was over. Ignoring the chaos that swarmed around them, she led him through the airport and to a waiting car.

“Take us to the nearest hospital,” she told the driver.

“No,” he whispered, “the hotel.”

“You should see
a doctor, Jamey, the shock…
”

“The hotel,” he insisted, and she nodded to the driver to do as he asked.

He had lain awake all night, shivering as from cold though he lay wrapped in the warmth of Maggie’s arms, overwhelmed by the events of the past day and night. He could neither speak of it nor could he close his eyes.

It was midmorn
ing before he slept and early evening before he awoke. Maggie had watched the televised accounts all day, the same scenes played over and over, the endless commentary. The same pictures of the plane on the darkened runway, the films of the rescue efforts by a multinational SWAT team, were repeated until she had memorized them.

And each time it was rerun, the resolution was the same. All of the terrorists and four of the performers on board, most prominent among them being Hobie Narood, had been killed. The eyewitness accounts from his fellow hostages indicated that just moments before the rescuers broke through the door, Narood had gone to the front of the plane and engaged their captors in conversation. The speculation was that Narood had seen the SWAT team moving toward the plane from his window and had deliberately distracted the terrorists. By the time J.D. had awaken, Narood had been declared an international hero.

“Jesus, I can’t believe it,” he all but shouted.

“I should have turned it off,” she said through her tears, “and told you about Hobie myself, instead of letting you find out from the TV. Oh, Jamey, I can’t believe he’s dead.”

“Better him than me,” he grumbled, sitting down beside her, eyes fastened to the screen.

It took a moment for her to react. His remark was so out of character.

“Jamey, I know this has been a terrible ordeal; every
minute of it must have been hell,” she told him, “and I know
how you must feel about Hobie…”

“Bloody stupid bastard,” he muttered, “could have gotten us all killed.”

“What are you talking about?” She wiped the tears away with a tissue, confused by the harshness of his reaction when she’d expected tears of grief for his old friend. “You mean when he went to distract the terrorists they could have turned on the rest of you?”

“Distract them, my ass,” he growled. “He went to try to call it off.”

“Call what off?”

“The whole goddamned thing.” He could tell she hadn’t a clue.

“I don’t understand,” she told him.

“Maggie, Hobie was in on it. He knew about it, he agreed to it. He was a member of the organization, has been financing their efforts for years.”

“What?!” She sat back in shock. “You mean—”

“I mean our boy Hobie, our good best-buddy Hobie, was in on the whole bloody thing right from the start.”

“Jamey, I can’t believe it.” She shook her head, “Are you sure?”

“He told me, Maggie. He bloody apologized to me. And now they’re calling him a hero. Well, I’ll set them straight on that, you can bet your life on it.”

She sat stunned and speechless, then slowly turned to him.

“Jamey, you can’t,” she whispered.

“What do you mean, I can’t?” he glared. “I can and I will.”

“No, Jamey, please.” Her eyes had grown wide with fright.

“Maggie, are you asking me to cover up for him? After what happened over the past two days? Maggie, had I not moved to the back of the plane when I did, I could bloody well be in a body bag right now,” he all but shouted at her, “not to mention that he was partially responsible for the
most hellish hours of my life.” He rose and began to pace with aggravation.

“But he’s dead, Jamey,” she said.

“Yes, he’s dead, but he’s no dead hero.”

“But, Jamey,” she pleaded, “Aden and the children. Wh
at will Makubo do to them if he
finds out?
He’s
already
rounded up the families of
the other terrorists
for
an
‘indefinite detainment’…”

He sat back down on the nearest chair and exhaled deeply.
It had never occurred to him…

“How do you know she didn’t know, that she wasn’t in on it, too?”

“Aden did not know.” Maggie shook her head adamantly. “She called late yesterday afternoon after you left. She was infuriated with Hobie for sending her out of the city. It seemed his aunt was neither expecting her, nor was she ill. She didn’t know, Jamey, I’m certain of it. As long as Makubo continues to think Hobie’s a hero, she and the children will be safe.”

He hung his head down, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“Jamey, it’s been terrible—God, I can’t even begin to imagine what you and the others went through—but Hobie’s dead, Jamey. Aden and her sons shouldn’t have to suffer because of what he did, and she shouldn’t suffer more than she has. She’s lost her husband—you know how much in love they were. God, Jamey, if I lost you and then had to face the kind of consequences she’ll face if the truth gets out—”

The soft knock at the door interrupted her impassioned plea, and J.D. walked slowly to the door, his mind a swirling whirlpool. Four men stood in the hallway. British Intelligence. American CIA. Two members of Makubo’s own internal intelligence agency.

Maggie excused herself to take a shower, backing out of the room, her eyes begging for his silence.

The interrogation had lasted two hours, and he was exhausted by the time the delegation had departed. He
found his wife on the balcony, reclining on a lounge and staring into the vastness of the sea beyond. He sat down next to her and took her hands in his.

“Is it over?” she asked without looking at him.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

“No,” he sighed deeply, “I did not.”

She pulled him slowly to her and rested his head on her chest.

“I know how difficult it must have been for you.” She very gently massaged the back of his neck.

“But you were right. Hobie is beyond retribution, and his family would pay the price for his actions. As much as I despise what he did, causing his wife and sons to suffer would not change what happened. I would only hope that if I ever did something as ungodly stupid as he did, that someone would care as much for you and our children.”

“How will you handle the press?” she asked.

“With a very firm ‘No comment.’ ”

“Do you think they’ll let you get away with that?”

“They’ll have to,” he said resolutely. “No one can force me to make a statement. I’ve given my report to the authorities and I am not obligated to discuss it publicly with anyone else. And I won’t.”

And for two years, despite the nightmares in which he had relived every second of the ordeal, he had held his silence. Arriving in Philadelphia, they had found the airport jammed with press, but he had walked past them stonily as if he did not see or hear.

Once back at their home, he had immersed himself in his family. It had been weeks before he’d set foot beyond the fence that ran the length of the property and months before Maggie could convince him to leave the sanctuary of their home, even to visit his in-laws, so deep within him remained the fear of never seeing his wife or his children again.

26

“
A
H,
SO HERE YOU ARE!”
L
UKE EXCLAIMED FROM THE
doorway.
“What a spectacle that was! Hilary left in a fine snit. You’ll be hearing from her lawyers, J.D., she did tell me to relate that to you. Rude, she was, about it, too, when she stormed out. Good for you, son, sticking to your guns
…
None of anybody’s business but yours, I say. But it was certainly an odd gamut you ran tonight. Lord knows you lost me for a time or two, what with your odd behavior. You feeling all right, you two?”

“We’re fine, Mother,” he replied.

“Well, the children are in their beds, Maggie, sleeping like angels, no need for you to tuck them in.” Luke had turned toward the door. “But I would ask you, J.D., to give a minute to Jesse if you would. He seems a bit out of sorts.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he told her, and as his mother disappeared into the house, he turned to his wife, a thousand questions in his eyes and on his face.

“Go tend to Jess,” she said softly, “then come back down and we’ll talk.”

He nodded uneasily, afraid to speculate upon the outcome of the conversation yet to come.

Maggie stood in the dark alone for a few long minutes, then walked into the room that only a brief time earlier had bustled with activity as the television crews had dismantled their equipment. She took off the high heels that had been bothering her all night and slipped into a pair of well-worn flats and walked through the quiet hallway into the dining room. She snapped on the lights and went to a small cabinet and lifted out first one, then a second goblet, and searched a drawer for a corkscrew. Opening a cupboard that was built into the wall, she removed a bottle of wine and passed back into the living room and through the still-opened doors. Seating herself on the top step of the patio, she carefully set the crystal goblets next to her on the bricks and proceeded to open the bottle.

Surely it had been an emotion-filled night, the ceaseless stream of visual images flowing past her inner eye, each following the other so effortlessly in their passing. The bright, shining moments of past joys had danced through her mind on gossamer feet, like fairy children in the night, specks of golden dust sprinkled in their wake.

Yet it had been the dark moments that had held her gaze the longest, as if she had lifted the rock that had hidden each one from her consciousness and gazed in horror on the dark, writhing thing that had lay beneath it.
At what point,
she reflected as she poured some of the sparkling liquid into her glass,
had it occurred to me that I cannot live without him?

As she had poked and prodded each moment of pain, she had seen his face emerge to absorb her sorrows. It had been his arms that had held her through sleepless nights, his strength that had enabled her to rise each morning after. How could she conceive of a life without him? What life could there be for her if he was not a part of it?

She mindlessly turned the glass around and around in her hands, watching the pale yellow liquid swirl closer and closer to the rim, but she did not raise the glass to her lips. She had been so resolute when she had arrived this evening, so positive that nothing could reach her. Yet every memory had left its mark.

How can I forgive him,
she asked herself wearily,
and yet how can I leave?

“Maggie,” he said from the doorway.

She watched over her shoulder as he approached, gesturing to him to join her. As he lowered himself to sit, she poured wine into his glass and handed it to him. He, too, played with it but did not drink. They sat together for a very long, quiet time.

“Thank you,” he said, breaking the awkward silence, “for
jumping in there at the end…”

“Thank you,” she replied, “for pitching in when you
did. I mean, about Hallie…
”

“That was a bit of a cheap shot on Hilary’s part,” he told her.

“I’d say Hilary wasn’t the only one to throw a cheap shot tonight,” she said, “what with every bell and whistle from our past being rung.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie.” He was sincerely contrite. “I was at my wit’s end. I thought if maybe I could make you see how much we have had together, how much we stand to lose—”

“You should have thought about that on Friday,” she snapped.

“Oh, Jesus, are we back to that again?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Will you, once and for all, listen to the truth so we can be done with it?”

“All right, Jamey,” she sighed, knowing that sooner or later she’d have to hear it, “suppose you tell me why you decided to entertain Blondie in the shower.”

“I swear to you, I don’t know where she came from or how she got in. I opened the shower door, stepped out, grabbed a towel, opened my eyes, and there she stood. And then you walked in immediately thereafter.” He shook his head. “I swear to you that’s exactly how it happened, preposterous as it sounds. Any chance you’d left the door unlocked when you left?”

She thought for a minute.

“I don’t remember. I was a little distracted, I remember, thinking about all the things I wanted to accomplish. Your
mom’s birthday present, a dress for the garden party next week, and then I walked past this shop and there was a wonderful old writing desk in the window. I went in and looked at it and thought it would be perfect in the hallway, you know, that bare spot along the one wall? The more I looked at it, the more I liked it, and I decided to come back and get you and see what you thought of it—”

“And there stood Glory in the all-together,” he said, finishing the thought for her.

“And that was it?” she asked sheepishly.

“That was it.” He shook his head. “I swear it, Maggie, on my life.”

“Oh, God, do I feel stupid,” she moaned, burying her face in his shoulder. “To think I was ready to pack up the kids and—”

“Well, it didn’t come to that.” He stroked her hair lovingly, relieved to his soul, knowing it was all still there between them.

“How did she even know we were there?” She lifted her head to ask. “How’d she know what room we were in or that I was gone?”

“The only thing I can think of is that she saw you leave the hotel; either she was in the lobby or walking past and asked at the desk. Maggie, I swear I didn’t ask her to come.” He studied her face. “Do you believe me?”

Instead of answering, she said slowly, “You should know that was the thing I have feared most. I was always afraid she’d come between us, all the years she threatened she’d get you back.”

“It could never happen, Maggie,” he reassured her.

“But she’s so beautiful, Jamey.”

“Ah, but there’s no comparison.” He put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her to him. “She can’t hold a candle to you, sweetheart. I had a choice a long time ago, and I’ve never regretted the choice I made. Not for a second. You are absolutely the single best thing that ever happened
to me…
my heart and my soul. I love you more than
anything in this life, and I always will. Do you believe me?” he asked again.

“Oh, yes. I love you, too, Jamey. How
could I have been so foolish…
to think that I could go on through this life without you.”

He stood up, pulling her up with him, embracing her, kissing her to welcome her back, to tell her all the things for which he could find no words.

The air was warm and balmy, fragrant as the breeze drifted toward them, and they looked out over the fields beyond
the garden, beyond the small barn.
The moon was most splendid—full, golden, and bright enough to illumine the gently sloped hills.

“Look at it.” Maggie was mesmerized by its glow. “Have you ever seen anything like it in your life?”

“Um, no, it is spectacular.” He kissed her neck, then said suddenly, “Wait right here. I’ve an idea.”

He disappeared into the house and returned a minute later with a blanket over his arm, a large black dog trailing behind.

“Come on, love. Let’s take a walk.” He took her arm and started to lead her through the gate, telling the dog, “You, Duff, may stay here.”

“Where are we going at this hour?” she laughed.

“Ah, Maggie, the moonlight is irresistible. You’re irresistible.” He kissed her. “Humor your old man, sweetheart, this has been so dreadful an evening.”

“Jamey, if you’re feeling amorous—and it’s obvious that you are—why don’t we just go back inside and—”

“And waste a night like this? Come on, Maggie, we may never see a moon like this again. Besides, it’s been a long time since we slept under the stars. Come and take a walk up over the hill with me and we’ll make love in the moonlight. What better way to celebrate?”

With a reluctance she couldn’t have explained, she took his hand and they walked together toward the hills.

G
eorge Brenner was just closing up his cottage for the night when he looked out the kitchen window and saw the
lovers as they ascended the hill, dark images against the golden sphere, the light from which flooded the valley. He froze and watched as the figures disappeared.

“Ruthann,” he murmured to the darkness. “Ruthann.”

He took down his gun and walked through the door into the night, a determined smile spreading slowly across his face.

“
W
hat are you thinking about?” he asked, tracing her features with the index finger of his right hand.

“How grateful I am that you did what you did tonight and brought me back to reality. How good it’s been, our life together.”

“It always will be, I promise.”

“And God, when I think about how close I came to leaving you.” She shuddered.

“You wouldn’t have gotten very far,” he told her, his humor having returned. “I would never have let you walk out of my life without a fight. Of course, I hadn’t reckoned on having to do that on national TV.”

“It was a nerve-wracking evening, wasn’t it?” She kissed his chin, grateful to be back in his arms, where she knew she belonged.

“The worst night of my life, Maggie. Fearing I’d lost you was more devastating than anything I’ve ever experienced. Even Anjjoli,” he whispered, adding with a sigh of relief, “but it’s over now, and we’re together and we’ll stay together, always. There’s nothing that can separate us again, sweetheart.”

G
eorge had stopped but once on his ascent up the hill to catch his breath. He was an old man now, and the anticipation of the confrontation after all these years was making him light-headed. At this moment, in his own mind, he was twenty-five again, and he was giddy with the knowledge that he’d now have the chance to do what he should have done the last time he’d found them together.