The Ryan home
Chesapeake Bay, Maryland
Sunday, April 7
1815 local time
Present day
Jack Ryan shrugged on his most comfortable cardigan in the master bedroom while looking out the window at the Chesapeake. Despite being several weeks into spring, the temperature had stubbornly refused to crack forty degrees this weekend. The kids and Cathy would tease him mercilessly for wearing this particular sweater, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Traditions, inside jokes, and making memories were the bedrock of a happy family, and the Ryans were a happy family. That was the reason he loved this house so much. He and Cathy had built a lifetime of memories here—some harrowing, but most precious and warm.
A savory mélange of odors wafted up from the kitchen below as the family prepared to celebrate their daughter Katie’s selection for lieutenant commander, a step up in rank she would pin on in the coming months. He took the time to breathe in the moment—the warmth of this home, the sound of the wind on the bay, and the commotion downstairs.
For a moment, he was no longer President Ryan, leader of the free world.
For a moment, he was just Jack—husband, father, and a guy who loved his country.
His mind’s eye watched a parade of memories march by: celebrating Christmas with their kids Sally and Jack Junior in the early years before twins Katie and Kyle had even been born. Holding hands with Cathy on the porch, staring out at the bay, Sally and Jack older now, pushing each other on the tire swing, while the toddler twins scampered at their feet. Then an unwanted memory intruded—the horrorific night when ULA terrorist Sean Miller had come for them, shattering the illusion of safety the house provided. But all the good and wonderful things the Ryans had lived through and experienced in this house overpowered the terror of that night. Graduations, new jobs and careers, a wedding, Christmases and Thanksgivings—always with so much to be grateful for—celebrated right here inside these walls, the Chesapeake Bay smiling up from below as if celebrating right along with them . . .
From downstairs, Cathy called, “Jack, are you coming? They’ll be here any minute.”
Ryan hurried out of the bedroom and descended the stairs, excited for the family dinner ahead. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw his wife furiously prepping dinner at the island, while their staff chef, Agatha, stood off to the side with her arms crossed, unable to hide her exasperation with the First Lady.
“She won’t let me help her,” Agatha said to Jack with a helpless, beseeching look.
“You’re preaching to the choir,” he said, shaking his head.
“I know it might not look like it, but I’m actually enjoying myself,” Cathy Ryan said with a genuine smile. “Besides, I’ve been cooking for my kids for years. I know what they like and how they like it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Agatha said, trying not to sound put out. “Just know I’m here if you need me.”
But that was the point, wasn’t it? Here in the Ryan family home, the Ryans wanted to do the meal prep, the cooking, and even the dishes. It wasn’t theater, it was real, because the doing made it real. This wasn’t the White House, it was their family home, and in a family home, the family does the work.
“You’re making the poached salmon?” he asked, but the aroma of the kitchen gave him the answer.
“It’s Katie’s favorite.”
He wrapped his arms around his bride from behind and kissed her on the cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Cathy let out a sigh, then turned, threw her arms around his neck, and gave him a proper kiss.
“You can check on the bread in the oven and put the salad on the table,” she said, turning back to her work. “And then feel free to take off that ratty old sweater.”
“Ratty? This is handwoven Scottish wool, thank you very much. You couldn’t buy quality like this today if you tried.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, but she was grinning, and this was the game they played.
Agatha made a move for the oven, but Ryan waved her off. “I’ve got it.”
“Well, perhaps I can at least let a bottle of wine begin to breathe,” Agatha said, grabbing a corkscrew and trying her damnedest to be helpful.
“That would be lovely, Agatha, thank you so much,” Cathy said as Ryan pulled a flat pan with two loaves of bread from the lower oven and put the pan on a hot plate. The smell of butter and garlic made his stomach growl.
“Do you want me to slice it?” he asked, but the doorbell chimed, and he raised his eyebrows to ask if he should answer it.
“Go,” she said. “I’ve got this.”
It wasn’t just his schedule that had kept him from seeing his youngest daughter for months, even though she worked just a short drive from where he sat most days in the Oval Office. After graduating from the Academy and completing her training at the intelligence school at Dam Neck in Virginia Beach, Katie had served a fleet tour in Norfolk, the three hours as distant as a continent with everyone’s schedule. Now Katie had tackled her job as intelligence analyst with ONI the same way she did everything in life—with quiet focus and one hundred and ten percent effort. Like her older sister, Sally, who loved her work as a pediatric surgeon, but not as much as the work in the lab, where she searched for new knowledge at the cellular level to make her care for her patients even better, Katie was all about the details. It was no surprise that today they were celebrating her promotion to senior analyst for Russian threats, with that promotion to lieutenant commander soon to follow. She’d been at ONI for only a year and a half, after finishing an operational tour aboard the Truman, so her advancement to senior analyst was way ahead of the norm. Captain Russ Ferguson, CO of the Nimitz Warfare Analysis Center, had told Jack that she was a prodigy.
Not that he was checking up on her . . .
“Daddy!” his all-grown-up little girl hollered when he entered the foyer, and he wrapped her up in a big hug. In that moment, he wasn’t the President and she wasn’t a naval officer—they were just daddy and daughter. “I missed you so much, Dad.”
“You too, kid,” he said when she broke the embrace. “We’ve both been busy. I hear you’re tearing it up over at ONI.”
“Keeping tabs on me, eh?”
“Only a little,” he said with a smile.
“Isn’t that abuse of power or something?”
“Only if I tip the scales for you, which I don’t,” he protested. “And from what I hear, you don’t need it.”
“What can I say, I love my work,” she said. Then, eyeing his sweater, added, “Really, Dad, I can’t believe Mom hasn’t thrown that thing out.”
“Believe me, she’s tried.”
They both laughed at this, and he pulled her in for another hug.
Mission accomplished.
The doorbell chimed. They turned together to watch Secret Service open the door and Katy’s big sis, Sally, come through, hand in hand with her husband and fellow surgeon, Davi.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Ryan said, giving Sally a hug and peck on the cheek.
“Missed you,” Sally said, beaming at him. “Nice dad sweater, by the way.”
He grinned and turned to Sally’s husband. “Come on in, Davi.”
“How are you, sir?” Dr. Davi Kartal said, extending his hand.
Ryan shook the firm grip. He liked Davi, a lot in fact. “When we’re home with family, Davi, I’m Jack or Dad, okay?”
“Right,” Davi said, properly chided. “Sorry. It’s still so weird.”
“Yeah, for me too, sometimes,” Ryan said. “Cathy’s in the kitchen. How about we help her out?”
“Is Jack coming?” Katie asked, referring to her older brother, Jack Junior.
“Not sure if he’s going to make it,” Ryan said as they passed through the dining room for the kitchen. “He was busy at work, but was hoping to come by. Haven’t heard from him yet.”
“Mom!” Katie said and ran to Cathy, who was still working at the kitchen island.
Ryan watched with affection as his two daughters hugged and greeted their mother. An upswell of pride tickled his throat at seeing how accomplished and confident his girls had grown up to be.
And every bit as beautiful as their mother.
After the requisite hugs and small talk were complete, Cathy announced, “Dinner is ready. We should probably get to the table before everything goes cold.”
“Let me help you,” Katie said, but Cathy shook her head.
“This is your dinner, Katie. No help from you.”
“I gotcha, sis,” Sally said, grabbing the salad bowl.
Minutes later they were around the large table, the bay window behind Ryan, who sat at the head, reflecting the sunlight from the bay into the room, where it danced color on the walls. He was about to lead the prayer, when the door chimed again.
“I can’t believe you almost started without me,” Jack Junior called from the foyer. He strode into the dining room, set a coyote-colored backpack on the floor, and slipped into the empty seat between Katie and his mom.
“I can’t believe you made it,” Katie said with a big smile. “If only Kyle was here, it’d be perfect.”
“I barely made it from the Beltway. Kyle’s in Bahrain,” Jack said, dropping a napkin into his lap. “Besides, after four years at the Academy together, surely you guys need a break.”
“Yeah, but that was years ago. This is the longest we’ve been apart. I miss him,” Katie said.
“Use your twin powers. If you channel his thoughts, it’ll be like he’s here,” Sally said, and everyone laughed.
“A little bird told me you’re putting on O-4 ahead of him,” Jack Junior said as Agatha slid a plate of poached salmon on a bed of saffron rice in front of him.
“Really? Congrats, sis, that’s fantastic,” Sally said. Then, with an impish grin, added, “Kyle was always the more competitive twin. Can’t wait to see the look on his face when he has to salute you.”
“Yeah,” Jack Junior said with a chuckle. “That oughtta cool the twin connection.”
“Hey now, let’s not pick on the only Ryan who isn’t here,” Ryan said, the familiar intimacy of this table of people, their easy, comfortable connection, filling him with warmth and making his eyes wet. “Let’s say a blessing, and we can pray for your brother, who wasn’t able to join us for this special day, and the important work he’s doing with Task Force 59.”
The table quieted, and Ryan led them all in prayer.
“Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive . . .”
Cathy squeezed his hand.
Life was good.