CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

 

Eight and a half hours later

February 16 — 5:00 A.M. MDT
Monday early morning

Fort Logan National Cemetery

 

Lost in thought, Alex didn’t hear the rattle of the white Lincoln Towncar until it turned the corner to the Fey Special Forces Team Memorial. She grimaced. She’d come this morning to spend time alone with her friends. She’d been talking non-stop since she arrived an hour ago. She cleaned the gravestones while she talked. It wasn’t her turn to clean them, but this morning she longed to tell them every little detail of the last few months with her new team. Thirteen black granite stones in a semicircle around an obelisk. That was all that remained of her friends.

And still, she knew they listened.

Alex leaned back onto her knees when a screech of brakes indicated the car was stopping at the memorial. She saw the tiny visage of Mrs. Harris, Dwight Harris’s grandmother, come around the vehicle. Alex moved to get up.

“Don’t get up,” Mrs. Harris said. “I didn’t come to interrupt your work.”

Alex stood to hug the woman.

“Nice to see you honey,” Mrs. Harris said. “How are you?”

Alex nodded.

“I thought so,” Mrs. Harris said. “It’s hard for me to move on. I can only imagine how it must be for you.”

Mrs. Harris returned to her car. She opened her trunk and took out a bouquet of yellow roses. Starting with Alexander’s grave, the empty grave where Alex should lay, she placed a flower on each grave. Alex finished cleaning the stone she was working on and went to the next.

“Yellow roses?” Alex asked. “I always wondered who left those here. You started about a year ago?”

“I got the big ‘C’, Alex.” Mrs. Harris said.

Alex jumped to her feet and rushed to Mrs. Harris’s side. The elder woman set a rose on Dean Kearney’s grave. Mrs. Harris brushed off Alex’s concern.

“I found out right after I saw you last year.” Squinting, Mrs. Harris looked up at Alex. “I thought, ‘Well, that’s just fine. The Lord will bring me home and I can be with my boy, his Mama, and all my babies.’ I wasn’t going to say a word to anyone.”

Unsure of what to say, Alex’s eyes scanned the deep wrinkles of the woman’s face.

“It was as if my Dwight was there with me,” she said. “I went to the doctor. That doctor said, ‘You got the colon cancer.’ He told me African American people get it. I thought, ‘I’m negro. It’s only fitting.’ I don’t remember driving home, but somehow there I was, standing on my front porch with my key in my hand. I could hear my phone ringing, so I rushed in the house to get the phone. It was little Greta. You know Paul’s girl. Her Momma had to move out of town. Wasn’t going to be able to be with her when she had her baby. Greta wanted me to be there. Me.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that everyone I’d loved had died. My husband, my children, and my Dwight,” Mrs. Harris said. “She laughed. That little girl laughed at me. She said ‘When you love heroes, they’re bound to die early.’ Well that stopped me in my tracks. I told her I’d think about it. I sat down in my chair, you know the La-z-Boy Dwight purchased for me? Except to use the facilities, I didn’t move from that spot for the rest of the day and most of the next. Can you guess why?”

Alex shook her head.

“I was trying to decide whether I wanted to live or die,” Mrs. Harris said. “Both sides looked pretty attractive.”

Mrs. Harris picked up another yellow rose. She smiled at Alex then set the flower down on Scott’s gravestone.

“You know that,” Mrs. Harris said.

“What did you…?”

“I realized that I’d lost myself when Dwight died,” Mrs. Harris said. “From the moment he was born, he was my boy. His Mama loved drugs more than anything, so Dwight was mine. After raising and burying eight kids, another baby wasn’t hard. But I’ll tell you; before he was born I had other plans. I’d just retired from the phone company. I felt dried up, like a prune. I was going to sleep for a year. God had other plans. Along comes this tiny baby. Suddenly, my life blossomed. I started a daycare for mothers in the neighborhood. I had ten babies who grew into toddlers then little kids. My friends kept telling me to take time off, to stop, but I was in seventh heaven. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live.

“But when Dwight died, I died too. I just didn’t know it,” Mrs. Harris said. “While I sat there in that chair, I realized I had to find my way back.”

“How did you do that?” Alex’s heart raced with the hope of finding an answer for herself.

“Yes, you have to do the same thing don’t you?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“I do,” Alex said. “I’ve been pretending, you know, to be the Fey. But it doesn’t feel real.”

“I followed breadcrumbs, Lieutenant Colonel Alex,” Mrs. Harris said.

“Breadcrumbs?”

“I found the breadcrumb of Dwight,” Mrs. Harris said. “I followed those breadcrumbs until I found the breadcrumb of my children. Most of them died years ago. I’d forgotten how much I loved them. Their children are still here. I just forgot. There was a knock on the door and the neighbor’s little girl was dropping off some cookies as a thank you for taking care of her one afternoon. Breadcrumbs of love, friendship and family. When I came upon the breadcrumb of my husband, Lord Jesus, I loved that man, I knew I was home. You should try it.”

“I don’t know…”

Mrs. Harris took another rose and gave it to Alex. She set it down on Tommy’s grave.

“You make maps right?” Mrs. Harris asked. “You like that. What are they called?”

“Fey maps, but…”

“That’s a breadcrumb,” Mrs. Harris said. “You have a tattoo of a fairy. Don’t you?”

“Yes but…”

“Another breadcrumb,” Mrs. Harris said. “And that armband? What do those fancy ‘F’s mean? I’ll tell you. I fussed at my boy for getting that tattoo. And you know what he said? My Dwight said, ‘I’m a member of the Fey Team. St. Peter’s still gonna let me in. He probably has this tattoo his own damned self.’ That’s my boy. What do the F’s mean?”

“They stand for the Fey Team, but…”

“Breadcrumb. I heard you talk to your command,” Mrs. Harris said. “On the phone yesterday? What do you say?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to get through voice recognition. What do you say?” Skipping Dwight’s grave, she set a rose on Jesse’s grave.

“Fey but…”

“Breadcrumbs. I’m telling you, these are breadcrumbs.”

“You don’t understand,” Alex said. “The Fey was all of us! Combined! Together!”

“And who’s left?” Mrs. Harris asked. “You and Major Joseph are the only ones left. And between you and me? That man is no fairy.”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh. Mrs. Harris gave Alex a rose to set on Charlie O’Brien’s grave.

“I asked myself, why is it so hard to just be?” Mrs. Harris asked. “You know, just be me.”

“What did you learn?”

“I wanted the world to stop when Dwight died. I wanted everyone to look and see what I’d lost, what we’d all lost,” Mrs. Harris said. “But they didn’t. Life went on. I either had to keep going or get off the track. In between doesn’t work. I’m either me or I’m gone.”

“What did you do?” Alex asked.

“I went to that doctor and told him to take it out,” Mrs. Harris said. “The whole thing. And he did. I have a bag now. It’s not a big trauma at all. I took the radiation. I took the chemo. The day of my last chemo appointment, Greta and I delivered a gorgeous baby boy she named Paul. I went to that doctor and told him I was cured. He hemmed and hawed. Didn’t want an old negro woman to be right. But I just knew. I was cured. And sure enough. I am.

“When the girls heard I helped Greta, they wanted me with them. I’m going to help Jennifer today or tomorrow,” Mrs. Harris said. “I started my daycare again for all the new Fey babies. My grandson even drops his baby by now and again. Yeah, I’ve seen all my grandbabies and great-grandbabies this year. They’re a little crazy, but I love them.”

Mrs. Harris walked to Dwight’s grave. She touched a place where the cleaning detergent hadn’t dried.

“My boy gave me my life back,” Mrs. Harris said. “Again. Have you found you?”

“I think so,” Alex said.

“But not the Fey?”

“I can use the name but I…”

“The breadcrumbs lead you back to yourself. You’re the Fey.”

Alex put her arm over the elderly woman’s shoulder. They stood watching Dwight’s grave.

“I was so busy yesterday I didn’t have time to bring my baby’s Sunday dinner,” Mrs. Harris said.

Mrs. Harris went back to the car to get the serving dish. Alex picked up the dish near the top of Dwight’s headstone and carried it to Mrs. Harris’s car. She set the rotten food in the large Tupperware and sealed it closed. When she turned around, she heard Mrs. Harris speak.

“I’m gonna ask her now.” Mrs. Harris set a ceramic dish at the top of Dwight’s headstone. “So don’t be mad at me for messing in your business.”

Alex touched Mrs. Harris’s back.

“You can ask me anything,” Alex said.

“Was my Dwight a homosexual?”

“No.” Alex had to work to keep from laughing.

“Then where are his kids?”

Alex looked away from Mrs. Harris. Weighing her options, she took a pack of incense out of her pocket and set a stick at the end of each grave. She was about to light them with Jesse’s Fey Special Forces Team Zippo lighter when Mrs. Harris stopped her.

“Tell me, Lieutenant Colonel Alex. I need to know.”

“He has three children,” Alex said. “They don’t live here in Denver. The oldest, a girl, lives in Texas with her mother. Fort Hood in Texas. Her mother’s stationed there. He has two kids with a woman in North Dakota. A girl and a boy. She’s also Army. His oldest is about twelve now. The woman in North Dakota had the boy two months after he died.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He was embarrassed,” Alex said. “The first baby was an accident. The condom ripped or something like that. He didn’t know she existed until the Army started docking his pay. He felt like he’d become his father or all the scumbag men who take advantage of women. He was afraid you’d be disappointed in the man he’d become.”

“Never.”

“The woman in North Dakota, her name is Shonda… Shonda loved Dwight, understood him. They talked about settling down together when we retired. She’s a Colonel. She runs her own team. She didn’t need much from him, just his love. And Dwight loved her. Their daughter’s name is Doris.”

“My name,” Mrs. Harris said. “And the other?”

“Shonda named his son, Dwight,” Alex said.

“Why didn’t his children get his benefits?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“That was Shonda,” Alex said. “She knew that Dwight would want you to be cared for. She declined his death benefits so they went to you.”

“She’s pretty special,” Mrs. Harris said.

“Special enough for Dwight to love her,” Alex said.

“When do I get to meet them?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“When would you like to?”

“Just like that? I get to meet them…”

“He told me to tell you when you asked,” Alex said. “Shonda would love to meet you. She’s a… breadcrumb.”

Mrs. Harris’s eyes filled with tears. Alex hugged her.

“You look around you, Lieutenant Colonel Alex,” Mrs. Harris said. “Everywhere you go, you bring people together. The Fey wives wouldn’t be together if you didn’t put that bug in Charlene O’Brien’s ear. The new babies would never have been born if you hadn’t made the men put away their seed. The new wives would be lost, completely lost, without the Fey wives’ help. And now, I get to see my Dwight live on in the eyes of my great grandkids. What kind of a person can affect so many people?”

Mrs. Harris leaned away from Alex. She raised her pointer finger and pressed it into Alex’s chest.

“No kind of person. You are a fairy, pure and simple,” Mrs. Harris said. “Follow the breadcrumbs and you find that you are the Fey. It’s who you are. It’s what you are. And more than anything, none of us can be the Fey. You need to do what you were born to do.”

Alex nodded her head. Mrs. Harris set the last yellow rose on Dwight’s grave. She watched Alex light the incense.

“Now, when do I get to meet my baby’s kids? I bet Jennifer can hold off until tomorrow. How about today?”

Alex laughed.

FFFFF

Ten weeks later

April 30 — 1:30 P.M. MDT
Thursday afternoon
White River National Forest, Colorado

 

While a spring snowstorm raged around her, Alex sat next to a roaring fire reading her email on her satellite laptop. Rather than fighting the snow from hut to hut, they’d driven as close to this cabin as possible and skied in on Monday. They planned to stay through Saturday. Max was due to arrive from Washington on Friday.

And the cabin was fabulous. The food was amazing. The time together was thrilling. The only exception to their bliss was this laptop.

But there was no way around it. With Sergeant Dusty on medical leave, she had to keep track of her own email and information. She’d originally been assigned a replacement Air Force Sergeant. He took one look at the volume of work and asked for reassignment. Rather than play the Sergeant lotto, Alex took over her own administrative duties.

Sort of.

She was sure there would be a mess for Sergeant Dusty when he returned next month. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that he would return next month.

Dusty’s recovery had been slow. He lingered in Denver Health ICU for more than a month. Then, by some miracle, he started to get better. The doctors believed he was healing from his surgery. But Alex thought it was nothing less than divine intervention. He’d been home for about a month. He’d called last week begging to return to duty. He wanted to work a few months before taking paternity leave for the new baby.

“Love?” John called from the sleeping loft.

“I’m here.”

Alex walked to the stairwell. When she didn’t hear him get out of bed, she went up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, she saw that John had gone back to sleep. She was about to jog down the stairs, when he laughed.

“I was hoping to lure you back to bed,” he said.

“I have to get through my email,” she said.

“Bring the computer up here.” He patted the bed. “Maggie and I will make space for you.”

Smiling, she jogged downstairs to retrieve her laptop. Making sure it was charged, she carried it up the stairs. John and Maggie made a space for her. She sat cross legged on the bed with the picture window and the spring snow storm to her back. He sat up to kiss her and leaned against the headboard.

“Give me the important updates,” he said.

“With the world?” Alex asked.

“Your world,” he said.

“We’ll start with the photos,” Alex turned the computer so John could see. “Dusty sent a photo of Peggy. She’s just starting to show. The docs think it’s another boy.”

“Good for them,” he said.

“How’s he really doing?” Alex asked.

“Really? Really and truly?” John asked.

Alex nodded sincerely at his joke.

“Great,” John said. “His heart has healed. The scar tissue hasn’t returned. His organs have adjusted to the increased blood flow. He says he feels great, better than he has in years. He’s just started physical therapy.”

“And Royce?”

“Did you see the picture of Royce’s first steps?” John asked.

Alex flipped the laptop to show Chief Petty Officer Royce Tubman taking his first steps on crutches.

“I like this one,” Alex said.

She flipped to the next photo. Royce’s daughter was cheering her father on when he took his next steps. Quanshay and his son were cheering in the background.

“He’s doing really well,” Alex said.

“You got him a job?” John asked.

“Admiral,” Alex said. “He’s our liaison between the President’s Office and the Secretary of State’s Office. It’s enough work for a half time person now, but the Admiral thinks the work will grow.”

“Why?” John asked.

“Getting payment from countries and companies,” Alex said. “We have a list of like…”

She shrugged.

“A lot of people need your help,” John said. “Any decision about whether or not you’re training people?”

“Not for a year,” Alex said. “That was Colonel Gordon. He got sick of people calling his office. Frankly, his admin staff is so lazy; he probably got tired of his staff complaining.”

John laughed.

“What about the evil woman spy?” John asked.

“Victoria? She’s been charged with first degree murder, treason, and whatever else they could throw at her,” Alex shrugged. “I don’t know what will happen to her. The Russians don’t want her back.”

“Why not?”

“She’s not a Russian spy,” Alex said.

“I thought she was,” John said. “What did I miss?”

“She grew up in the St. Petersburg brothels,” Alex said. “The woman she called her ‘mother’ worked for Zoya Aguilar.”

“She actually murdered her,” John said.

“Victoria murdered her pretend mother and Leandro Aguilar,” Alex said.

“How did she murder Leandro?” John asked.

“You know that,” Alex said.

“It never makes sense to me,” he said.

“She was their US contact,” Alex said. “The Weasel ordered a wiretap and surveillance before his… issues. No one bothered to remove it.”

“That’s why Leandro telephoned her apartment,” John said.

“He knew the Weasel’s wiretap would pick up his clues to where he was located,” Alex said. “I wish we had found it sooner.”

She gave a sad sigh. He nodded. To keep her talking, he said, “You were talking about how the Russian woman murdered your guy?”

“Right,” Alex said. “Zoya Aguilar called her to check on the information they’d received from torture. Victoria checked out any information they found. Raz found a call where she says, ‘You may as well kill him. There’s nothing here.’ That’s kind of that.”

“Horrible woman,” John said. “How’s Troy about all of this?”

“He took your suggestion,” Alex said.

“I think it was his therapists first,” John said.

“Either way, he’s going to sit down with Dahlia tommorrow. You know the mother of his children?” Alex shrugged. “She’s at the root of why he’s so messed up with women. I think he’s ready to either be free of his brother’s wife or spend his life with her. This in between is too hard and painful.”

“He’s past his year anniversary?” John asked.

“He is,” Alex shrugged.

“But you think he’ll clear this up?”

“I do. Mattie went with him in case he needed help,” Alex said. “You?”

John nodded. Alex dusted off her right shoulder.

“Getting ready?” he asked.

“For the usual post-Dahlia shoulder bending,” Alex laughed.

John laughed. She leaned over to kiss him.

“When does Colin come home?” John asked.

“Next week,” Alex said. “He’s still sober. That’s what amazing. He’s still sober. They’ve pee checked him every day at training. And…”

“He’s still sober,” John said. “What’s happening with Julie?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “The divorce went through. They are in the waiting period.”

“Didn’t she go to Washington to visit him?” John asked.

“She did,” Alex said. “Col had a weekend off so he begged her to come. He said they had a great weekend. He thinks she might be pregnant again. But…”

“He didn’t tell her that he was training to be a Homeland Security agent,” John said.

“She thinks he’s vacationing with my parents,” Alex said.

“Why?”

“No idea,” Alex said. “He didn’t tell her about the trust or his sobriety or his new job. She doesn’t even know he works at a bakery he part owns.”

“He thinks she won’t believe him,” John said.

“I guess so,” Alex said. “I’m glad Paddie likes daycare. Have you met his little friend?”

“Katy?” John laughed. “No, but I’ve heard all about her in Paddie-speak. She’s pwetty, fnny, his bery best fwend.”

“They are cute,” Alex said.

“It’s a soul reunion,” John said.

Their eyes held for a moment in acknowledgement of their soul reunion.

“You knew most of that stuff,” Alex said.

“I did,” he said. “Sometimes it’s nice to watch your lips move. What was supposed to happen today?”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s right. You were asleep. It’s pretty exciting. Which video do you want to see first?”

“There’s more than Leena’s case?” he asked.

Alex nodded.

“Pick one,” he said. “I’m just lying here.”

She smiled. Clicking through to CNN, she started a video.

“This is the most surprising,” Alex said.

The video rolled to an announcer’s face.

“In a shocking admission, the Secret Service announced today that the agent who attempted to kill the President was acting in an under cover operation,” the announcer said.

Alex and John watched with rapt attention at a video clip of the back of the Weasel as he was released from Supermax at Florence, Colorado.

“What’s he going to do?” John asked.

“Done. He’s in witness protection,” she said. “He and his children have been relocated out of country.”

“How did he get his kids?” John asked.

“That’s a long story. Turns out their mom’s custody was terminated,” Alex said. “The girls were so thrilled to have their Dad back that they jumped on him and wouldn’t let go. The littlest one held on to his leg. He’s going to be working in Interpol. I think they will be fine.”

“Wow,” John said. “That’s… wow… Did you get the same kind of justice for Leena?”

“Some,” Alex said. “Turns out the father of her child raped two National Guardswomen at a hotel in downtown Baltimore. Here’s the picture of him being arrested.”

“He was arrested in civilian court?” John’s eyes were wide.

Alex nodded.

“That’s fabulous,” John said. “The Army didn’t say they would take care of it.”

“Nope,” Alex said. “He did the crime off base while he was technically AWOL. When you’re AWOL, you’re not in the Army. At least, that’s my argument.”

Alex beamed at her brilliance.

“How much persuading did that take?” John asked.

“Some,” she said. “But we have a lot of evidence against him. There are a lot of women ready to join in the complaint. He’s in big trouble. He’ll get his court martial when the DA’s done with him.”

“Did he make that retroactive child support payment?” John asked.

“Yesterday,” Alex said. “The deposit went through yesterday.”

“That is impressive,” he said.

“I have a good team,” she smiled.

“And the rest?” John asked.

“We’ve collected DNA samples from all seven of her assailants,” Alex said. “They are at the lab. We don’t know what we can do, but Samantha’s working the legal angles.”

“Good to have Samantha on our side,” John said.

“Indeed,” Alex said. “She even helped me get a gorgeous dark blue suit.”

He smiled. His hand reached out to cup her face. Her brown eyes held his cobalt blue eyes.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Alive,” she said. “Grateful for this day and this time with you. Madly in love with you.”

He leaned up and they kissed. He leaned back to look at her face. His finger tips stroked her chin. She clasped him to her. Getting squashed between them, Maggie yipped. They laughed. John lay back on the bed.

“How is it to be the Fey?” John asked.

Alex shrugged. She turned her head to look at the snowstorm raging outside the picture window. In the window, with the chaotic storm as a backdrop, she watched her reflection. Her pensive look became an acknowledging smile. She gave herself a nod.

“What?” he asked.

Turning back to him, she closed her eyes and shrugged in resignation.

“It’s who I am.”

F