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Rand was inside the restaurant, sitting at a back table, facing the door. Mac suspected he’d gotten here early so that he could have that seat — it was the one Mac would have preferred. He took the chair across from him, sitting with his back to the door, although it made his skin crawl. Rand looked amused. “Sorry,” he said. “But someone’s got to sit there, and it isn’t going to be me, not today.” He looked around the restaurant and shook his head. “Not sure this is the best choice for this conversation, either.”
Mac smiled at the waiter who brought them water and menus. After he left, Mac replied, “This is the place where the girl was living. I owe it to the owner to tell him she’s safe.”
“Is she? Safe, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Mac said. “I’m hoping you can tell me. It’s kind of a messy story, but there are Burmese soldiers searching for a young girl from the Mae La refugee camp here in Seattle.”
Rand grimaced. The waiter came back and Rand gave his order. It sounded good, and not Mac’s usual Pad Thai, so he just nodded that he’d have the same.
“So tell me the story — I just got a bit of it, something about... soldiers,” Rand said with another glance around. No one was paying any attention to them; no one was even seated close by. Mac wondered at that. They were just past the lunch hour rush, so maybe it was coincidence.
Not that he believed in coincidences.
Mac told him about Kate coming to him, and who Maiah was, pausing when the food came. The dish was wide flat rice noodles in some kind of dark, spicy sauce with chicken and vegetables. It was good. Mac dove in. In between bites, Mac told him Maiah’s story, including the guards. He took Rand’s example and didn’t say the word Burmese out loud.
“Stupid fool,” Rand said when Mac was done. He was using chopsticks expertly. Mac had accepted the offered fork without any embarrassment. His military experiences hadn’t been in chopstick areas.
“Samuel?” Mac asked, because Rand could be referring to him for getting involved. He wasn’t sure it didn’t apply.
Rand just grunted. He didn’t say anything until after the waiter cleared the table.
“So you have a young, gung ho missionary who went native, got picked up by some intelligence agency, and was willing to abandon his wife and young child because he was addicted to the thrills,” Rand summarized.
Harsh, but accurate, Mac thought. He wasn’t overly fond of Samuel Fairchild himself.
“And then he stupidly falls in love with another woman — probably a nurse or someone who is working in the camp — and has another child, putting them at risk too. Because they’re just hostages that haven’t been taken yet, Mac. By either his handlers, or the various factions in Myanmar.”
Rand tapped his fingers. “And there’s so many factions in Myanmar, that I wouldn’t begin to be able to summarize them for you. The Karen are an ethnic minority — one of hundreds — and they’re not even the biggest refugee crisis coming out of there. At least they’re on the Thailand side. The Rohingya are on the Bangladesh side, and Bangladesh doesn’t have the resources for its own people much less refugees.”
Mac did know something about Bangladesh, he’d done some humanitarian aid drops there. It would haunt his nightmares forever. He didn’t interrupt.
“So he’s older, probably wiser now,” Rand said. “Although if he went back into Myanmar on a rescue mission — or intelligence gathering mission — at his age, I’m not sure about wiser. He’s got to be what? In his 50s?”
Mac did the math. “Late 50s, probably,” Mac agreed. “Maiah says her mother told him he was too old for this — thereby all but guaranteeing he’d do it.”
“Old fool,” Rand said. “So he’s been gone eight months. I’d guess he’s dead, but if he was, no one would be interested in Maiah. Their presence is the best indication he might be still alive.”
“Quite frankly I don’t care if he is or not,” Mac said coldly. “I think he’s a self-centered asshole, and I don’t care if he’s lived a life of sacrifice and good works or whatever he thinks he’s been doing. He abandoned his wife and child here. And he refused to get U.S. citizenship for his second daughter, letting her grow up in a refugee camp. But Maiah doesn’t deserve to pay the price for his stupidity.”
“Well, to be fair, he would have a hard time getting U.S. citizenship for her when he was supposedly dead,” Rand pointed out.
“If he could get the U.S. government to cough up a life insurance policy for Naomi, he could get citizenship papers for Maiah,” Mac countered. Fathers who abandoned their children were a sore spot with him and he knew it.
“One, you’re assuming he’s working for the U.S. government,” Rand said softly. “And that he is still. Second, he probably had more value to whoever he’s working for when he was a 20-something cowboy than he does as a 50-something missionary.”
“You think he’s not working for the U.S.?”
Rand shrugged. “Don’t know. But he could be working for Thailand. The life insurance policy indicates he’s not working for one of the Myanmar factions, which is a relief. Or Australia — big interest in the region. But a number of European countries are also involved. But yes, U.S. and Thailand are the two most likely.”
The owner of the restaurant came out from behind the counter with their check. “You should go,” he said firmly.
Mac nodded. “I wanted you to know that the girl is safe,” he said softly. “She is with her sister.”
The owner looked at him for a moment, then glanced at Rand, and back to Mac. “She is not safe,” he said quietly. “They found her once. They will find her again.”
“Do you know why they want her?”
“Khır ca rū̂? — Who knows?” the man said. “It makes no difference. To be wanted by the Burmese is a death sentence.”
“Government, military, or underground?” Rand asked. The owner considered that.
“Underground,” he said with a sigh. “It can’t be official, or they would have gone to the university directly, I think. The girl said they haven’t.”
“How did she come to you?” Mac asked, noting he didn’t use her name, even in the nearly empty room.
The owner shrugged. “Her mother is related to my wife’s family. It was asked as a favor. I would have taken her home, but she wanted to be near the university, and so I let her stay here. I figured she’d get tired of living in a back room of a restaurant and join my family. But that was before I realized she’d grown up in Mae La. It is a sad thing. She is a good girl.”
He was already mourning her, Mac thought disturbed.
“I appreciate your care for her,” Mac said.
The man nodded. “I wish I could do more,” he said. “But I have family. And they have already come here looking for her. I thank you for bringing me word, but it is best if I call no more attention to myself.”
Mac got the message. Don’t come back. He pulled out his wallet, paid the bill, and left a generous tip. And his business card with a cell number on it. “If there are problems, call,” he said. “I will help. You are owed.”
The man looked at the card, his eyes widening a bit when he saw the newspaper logo. He bowed deeply.
Rand led the way out of the restaurant. “Damn Mac, you just got us thrown out — and the food was good too,” he said humorously.
Mac rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to the Fairchild House. I don’t think they’ll throw us out.”
Rand shook his head. “No, not there,” he said. “Things may need to be discussed, that shouldn’t be overheard. Your place?”
Mac shrugged and nodded. His place it was.
They parked both vehicles in back, and Mac led the way into the bungalow. He really should do something about this backyard, he thought. He kept it mowed, and now in August it was dry and brown, but that was all he did to it. He thought about the courtyard at Fairchild House and wondered if Naomi would be willing to design something for this space. Would that be weird? He didn’t know, but Angie would. He’d ask.
“Iced tea?” Mac asked, peering into the refrigerator. “Or Mountain Dew.”
“You’re still drinking that crap? Iced tea would be fine,” Rand said. He was looking around the place. “How long have you lived here?”
“Most of my life, really,” Mac said. “I lived here with my aunt until I went into the Marines, and then when I got the job at the Examiner, I moved back here. For the last 10 months, I’ve been buying it from her — she finally decided to move in with her lover. So far, so good.” Mac grinned at him. “Angie and I are making it, and so are they.”
Rand snorted. “So what exactly do you want from me, Mac?”
“Knowledge for one,” Mac said immediately. “You’ve already made more sense of what is going on than I could. And backup. Every instinct is telling me this is going to get bad.”
“The restaurant owner isn’t wrong,” Rand said. “Getting crosswise of the Burmese Army isn’t good.”
“Is that what Maiah has done?” Mac asked.
Rand shrugged. “Her father has,” he said. “My guess... someone saw her name on something — who knows where? Thai embassy immigration lists? I don’t know. Something that connected her with him. Like I said, she and her mother have always been hostages — just not taken yet. And the fool should have known that. That’s why he sent his first wife and child back to the States and severed ties, right? He was going undercover, and they would be in danger.”
“I think he did it because he’d fallen in love with Maiah’s mother,” Mac said. “I’m not particularly willing to give him credit for thinking of anyone but himself.”
Rand half-shrugged, half-nodded. “Understandable given what you went through growing up,” he said. “And you might be right, although people’s motives are rarely simple.”
Mac wasn’t sure he agreed with that. He found most people’s motives were simple — sex, money, revenge. And Naomi Fairchild? What motivates her, a voice in his head said. None of those things. So he just nodded and didn’t argue.
“Janet mentioned how private you are — even more than I am,” Mac said abruptly. They were still in the kitchen, leaning against the counters. He didn’t look at directly Rand. “Although after last spring, I think you all know more about me than I know.”
Rand snorted at that.
“But it is true,” Mac continued. “I don’t know how old you are, where you grew up, where you went to college. I have a sense that you were military at some point, but Janet wasn’t even sure of that — and I always bow to Janet’s wisdom. Safer that way.”
Rand was silent; he didn’t move at all.
“So really all I know as far as the facts go is that you are FBI and you like to guide hikers in the Cascades, and you’ve been through some shit,” Mac said. “I know what it’s like to not be able to talk about things. But I also know that you will have my back. You’re someone who can be counted on. And that’s really all I need to know.”
Rand looked up at that, and the two men stared at each other.
“Mac,” Rand began, when Mac’s phone vibrated. Mac held up his hand and pulled out his phone. Timothy Brandt.
“What’s up,” Mac said. He was already on the move, emptying his glass in the sink, putting it in the dishwasher.
“We’ve got men staking out the house,” Tim said. “Maiah says they’re Burmese soldiers.”
“Same ones? Or just soldiers?” Mac asked. Rand set his glass down on the counter, and the two of them headed out the back door at a brisk pace.
Tim covered the phone and said something. When he came back, he said, “She thinks they’re the same ones. They’re sitting in a car outside, just watching. It’s hard to see much detail of their faces.”
“OK,” Mac said. “You know the drill by now. Lock down the house. Make sure you get all the locks?” That was how Kate had ended up as a hostage last time. Someone forgot to check the gate in the courtyard. “I’m on my way. And I’ve got backup with me.” Mac raised his eyebrows in Rand’s direction, and Rand nodded.
“Got it,” Tim said. “Naomi is still on campus, though.”
Mac glanced at the time. “She get off at 5 p.m.?”
“Just after 4 p.m. during the summer, and she walks home,” Tim said. Mac could hear the anxiety in his voice.
“All right,” Mac said. “I’m going to drop off Rand — you remember him from the Parker House, right? Meet us at the back gate. Let him in, and I’m going to park and go up to escort Naomi home. Are there any other boarders during the summer?”
“Two, and they’re both home. They’re upstairs studying. I haven’t told them yet.”
“You need to do that,” Mac said. “Simply tell them you’re concerned about some unsavory men loitering outside after what happened in the past, and that they shouldn’t leave until you give them the all clear. And Tim? Try to be soothing, not alarming?”
Tim laughed. “Got it. How long do you think?”
“About 30 minutes if traffic cooperates,” Mac said, already thinking of his route. “Call Naomi and tell her to stay at the math department office until I come for her, will you?”
“Will do,” Tim said. “Thanks, Mac.”
Good Lord, the boy was even saying thank you, now? Mac ended the call. “Your rig or mine?”
Rand grimaced. “If they run my plates it will come back law enforcement, and I’d rather not get the office involved at this point. You still have an arsenal in the back of yours? Might come in handy.”
“Not like I did,” Mac said. “Angie said it was a bit excessive. But I have a few toys.”
Mac studied the man for a moment, as he got something out of his car. He could have sworn he hadn’t had his suit jacket on in the restaurant — just the white dress shirt, and black slacks. Dressing down for the restaurant, Mac thought. But then, he’d put the jacket and tie back on before getting out here.
Rand was armed. Mac thought agents were always supposed to carry, so he guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. But the FBI look was intimidating in itself — interesting that he’d toned it down for the restaurant. But he wasn’t toning it down now. Mac didn’t ask questions, he just got into the SUV, and backed out.
“So tell me about this house,” Rand said. He leaned his head back against his headrest and closed his eyes.
“It’s one of those old Victorians, like a Painted Lady. Basement, main floor, second floor, and a third floor that’s mostly a turret bedroom and a bathroom. That was the daughter’s before she married and it’s the room Naomi gave Maiah,” Mac said. He focused on his driving, and just let his words about the house ramble. “Naomi Fairchild is in her mid-50s, nice woman, works as the secretary of the U-Dub math department. She lets out the rooms to Christian kids who are coming to the big city for the first time. Doesn’t charge much, and the kids have to have a letter or recommendation from their pastor.”
“And Timothy Brandt is one of those boarders? Janet’s son, right? He was out at the Parker House.”
“That’s right,” Mac said. “That’s how I met the Fairchild women — tracking Tim down. And then they got sucked into the whole mess.”
“You stayed in touch,” Rand said.
Mac snorted. “Kate and I dated for six months,” he said. “She’s a good Christian girl, and I’m everything she was ever warned against.”
Rand laughed at that.
“We broke it off about the time I went to the Cascades looking for a white supremacist boot camp and met you.”
“But she called you when she needed help.”
“Yeah,” Mac said. “And that’s fine. I’m glad she did. She’s married and going to have a baby — so it’s not like we’re going to rekindle anything. But this is the kind of thing I can do, and she knows it.”
“In what... one year?” Rand was startled. He opened one eye and looked at Mac. Mac just shrugged.
“I’m living with Angie in the same year,” Mac pointed out. He thought it was fast too, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Fifteen months.”
Rand rolled his eyes.
“So there’s a courtyard garden outback. High walls, locked gate — usually. Small lot, no yard, really — a bit of one in front. You know how those houses are.”
Rand nodded. “This house over near Greek Row? All done up in blues and purples?”
“That’s the one,” Mac agreed.
“So there’s Brandt and three others in the house? Young, Christian kids?” Rand sounded incredulous. Mac chuckled.
“Yup.”
Rand didn’t ask anything more. “So, tell me, why are these men looking for her?” Mac said.
“Could be a number of things,” Rand said vaguely. “I guess we’ll have to ask them.”
Mac glanced his way, and then he shut up and drove. That explained the return to the suit, he guessed. He took the University Bridge and thought about the homeless camp at the base of the northern end. Couldn’t see them from up here. And then he navigated through the Ave. Rand kept his eyes shut. Smart man.
Finally, he pulled into the short alley leading to a small parking area, just big enough for two cars — Naomi’s ancient VW bug, and an empty spot where Kate’s second-hand Honda used to be parked. He pulled into it, got out, and opened up the flat, locked box in the cargo hold. Rand shook his head. “All legal, I hope?”
“Yeah,” Mac said. Rand nodded, and picked out a rifle, good for a more long-range position. Mac got his backpack out from behind the driver’s seat.
“You’re not going to carry?” Rand asked, as Mac closed up the lock box and then the hatch. He beeped the SUV locked.
Mac looked at him puzzled. “I’m always carrying,” he said. “Most always. Leave it in the car when I go inside the cop shop.”
Rand’s eyes strayed to his backpack and widened a bit. “Janet know about that?”
Mac shrugged. “Probably,” he said. “Not much gets past her.”
Rand shook his head as he followed Mac to the gate. Mac pounded on it and heard someone unlatch it. It had better be Tim, Mac thought, suddenly wishing he’d driven past the front of the house first. But Tim peered out and then unlocked the gate, and Mac relaxed the tension he hadn’t realized he had.
“I’m on my way to get Naomi,” Mac said. “Don’t do anything fun until I get back.”
“Is he always that weird?” he heard Tim ask Rand in bewilderment from the other side of the fence.
“Always,” Rand said solemnly. Mac grinned.
It was a mile walk from the Fairchild House to Gould Hall where the math department was located. Mac didn’t hurry. It was hot, Rand could protect the people at the house as well as he could, and he might as well enjoy the walk. The University of Washington was a pretty campus.
Naomi Fairchild was waiting for him outside the building. She was sitting on a bench and appeared to just be enjoying the warmth of the day. Mac called her name softly before approaching, and she smiled at him. “Everything OK?” he asked. “No weird inquiries?”
She shook her head and stood up, and then they headed back. She set a brisk pace. “This is the bulk of my exercise,” she explained. “A mile each way, and I usually go home for lunch. Not during the summer — we only close for a half-hour so that we can shut down early — but during the rest of the year I do.”
Four miles a day? Good for her. “I brought along a friend,” Mac told her. “Rand Nickerson.” He explained who he was.
“Do you really think the FBI needs to be involved?” she asked. Mac couldn’t read the emotions.
“It isn’t, not officially,” he answered. “This is a favor to me.”
She nodded and kept walking. “Naomi?” Mac said gently. “Talk to me.”
“Oh, Mac,” she said. “I’m a mess of emotions — how could he do this to me? Am I going to lose everything? Go to jail? We’re talking insurance fraud, aren’t we? And I’m so ashamed. I should be more concerned for Maiah — her life could be on the line, and it’s all I can do not to hide somewhere in the fetal position and wish it would all go away.”
“Sounds perfectly normal to me,” Mac said. “If anything I think you’re being kinder than most would be. I’m ready to go hunting for your husband with a butcher knife for being a self-centered a...” He couldn’t think of a cleaned-up term and shrugged. “Asshole.”
She chuckled. “You and your language. Watching you struggle to keep it clean for Kate and me has been endlessly entertaining. I appreciate it,” she assured him. “But it’s funny, nevertheless.”
Mac smiled at her. “My boss appreciates your influence,” he said. “She’s noticed that there are fewer f-bombs in the newsroom.”
Naomi exhaled. “OK, so I’m not being a complete jerk for being concerned about myself. But what do we do for Maiah? This isn’t good, Mac. These are dangerous men — I remember that much. And I don’t have a clue what to do for her.”
“You’re giving her a home,” Mac said. “That’s huge. Let Rand and I figure out the bigger picture. You keep her housed and in school. I am amazed at your generosity to do that for the daughter of a husband you thought was dead.”
“I can barely remember him, you know?” Naomi said as they reached the back gate of the house. “Is that strange? It’s only been 16 years.”
“Longer than that really,” Mac said, as they waited for someone to come to the gate. “You were essentially on your own raising Kate here for years before that.” No one was coming? Mac frowned and pulled out his phone and sent a text to Tim and Rand.
It was Maiah who came to let them in. She held up a finger for silence, and Mac nodded. The two of them walked inside the garden, and Mac turned to make sure the gate was latched — and locked. They followed her silently into the house. “Where’s Rand and Tim?” Mac asked once they were in the kitchen.
“I’m in here,” Tim said from the front entryway. “I’m on watch. Rand went out to talk to them.”
He what?
Mac tried for a reassuring smile at Naomi and Maiah. He doubted it worked, but he’d made the effort. Angie would be proud of him. He got his gun out of his backpack, ignoring Naomi’s gasp of surprise. And then he shouldered his way into the entryway — it wasn’t very big, more of a place to shed coats than anything fancy — and peered out over Tim’s shoulder.
“He couldn’t wait until I got back?” Mac muttered.
“He was watching them, and then he called in the plates,” Tim said. “I don’t know what he heard, but he handed me the rifle and said for me to shoot only if I saw them with a gun and to try and not hit him by accident. And then he went out to talk to them.”
Mac rolled his eyes. Damned cowboy. This was something he would do — Rand was supposed to be the level-headed FBI agent.
And then they waited. Rand was at the driver’s window, and they appeared to be discussing things calmly. Mac didn’t know what that indicated. Finally, the car drove off, leaving Rand standing there. He watched them go, before returning to the house.
“You could have waited,” Mac grumbled as he let the man inside.
“Called in the plates,” Rand said. “They’re diplomatic plates — but there’s no Burmese consulate in Seattle. So I went out to ask them about it.”
“And?” Mac asked. Rand took off his jacket and hung it up. He had a shoulder harness underneath. Thought so, Mac thought smugly.
“Hot out there,” Rand said.
“Come get some iced tea,” Naomi said. “And let’s sit in the shade of the courtyard. Always cooler out there.”
“Rand, this is Naomi Fairchild,” Mac introduced. “Naomi, Rand Nickerson, a friend of mine, and FBI cowboy.”
Naomi grinned at that. “Come on, then, cowboy, I want to hear what you found out.”
Mac followed Naomi and Maiah out to courtyard. Maiah was carrying a tray with glasses of iced tea, and Naomi had a plate of brownies. Tim trailed along behind them; Mac didn’t say anything.
“So? Diplomatic plates, but no embassy?” Mac asked, accepting both a glass of tea and a brownie. “Where is the nearest embassy?”
“Well, that’s where it gets interesting,” Rand said after swallowing a bite of brownie. “These are really good.”
“Rand!” Mac said, laughing. They were good brownies. “Focus?”
Rand grinned. “The nearest U.S. embassy is in Los Angeles. But these two are out of the embassy in Vancouver, B.C.”
Mac frowned. “So they have no standing here at all? What’s with the plates?”
Rand nodded his approval. “And here’s the piece that made Stan send me your way. We’ve been watching an import company here in Seattle. We think it’s a front — for what I’m not completely sure. Drugs I’d guess, but we haven’t caught them at it.”
“Burmese imports,” Mac said slowly.
“Yeah,” Rand said. “And when I asked for an address for where they’re staying, guess what address I got?”
“The import company,” Mac replied. Rand nodded. Mac pondered that for a moment.
“So what are they down here for?”
“They said there was a possible informant they wished to talk to,” Rand said.
“Maiah?” Mac asked.
“Yes,” Rand said. He finished the brownie, and Naomi offered him a second one. He smiled his thanks, and Mac watched with interest when Naomi blushed. Huh.
“And they want to ask her what?” Mac asked.
“They think she might have information that would lead to the capture of a foreign agitator in Burma,” Rand said. “I asked them why they hadn’t gone through channels? We would have been glad to assist them in arranging an interview.” He shrugged. “That’s when they drove off.”
“Names? Did you get names?” Mac asked.
“For what they’re worth,” Rand said.
“Foreign agitator?” Maiah asked slowly. “I am not a foreign agitator!”
“Not you,” Mac said gently. “Your father. They think you might be able to tell them where he is.”
She shook her head. “I do not know,” she said. “We are very worried, Mama and I. But he isn’t a foreign agitator either! He is a missionary.”
Mac raised an eyebrow at Rand, who gave a small shake of his head. Nope. Rand wasn’t going to tackle that, and Mac decided he wasn’t either. But if you were a Buddhist country, a Christian missionary could be considered a foreign agitator. And in Samuel Fairchild’s case, he was probably more than a missionary.
“I’d like to call Shorty,” Mac said to Naomi. She’d been staring at Maiah with a troubled expression — probably thinking through the same things he’d just run through himself. “I asked him to do some research for me. And I’d like to give him Rand’s names.”
“Invite him to dinner, why don’t you?” Naomi suggested. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”
Mac hesitated. But really someone should be here. Tim with a Remington rifle wasn’t adequate defense. He nodded. “Let me call Angie and tell her what’s up.”
“Invite her to come for dinner too,” Naomi said. “I’ve got lasagna in the freezer. There’s plenty. Rand?”
“If it’s not a problem,” he said politely.
Mac made the calls.
It actually turned out to be a lot of fun, Mac found. Rand exerted himself to be charming. Angie and Shorty engaged the other house residents in conversation. All he had to do was smile and answer any question that came his way. There weren’t many, to his relief.
He helped clear the table, and then headed out to the courtyard with more iced tea. Naomi and Rand followed him out. Shorty joined them. “Angie’s keeping track of the young girls,” Shorty said. “And Tim seems to think he’s got permanent guard duty by the door. Maiah is with him. So can us adults talk now?”
Naomi chuckled. “Tell us what you’ve found,” she invited. “I suspect you were asked to research Samuel. And now these two men?”
“And the import shop,” Shorty said. He looked at Rand. “I ought to send your boss a bill.”
“He’d probably pay it, if you found useful stuff,” Rand said, not rising to the bait. “It’s been on the back burner, but irritating, because we can’t figure it out.”
Shorty snorted. “It’s a drug front like you thought. But the drugs are a front for espionage. Do people still use that word?” he demanded.
Rand shrugged. “We usually say spying unless we’re trying to impress the higher-ups,” he said equitably. Shorty chuckled.
“Seattle has a large refugee community,” Shorty said, his voice beginning to take on the professor/lecture tone it sometimes did. “We’re the fifth largest refugee-taking state in the country. Nearly 20 percent of Seattle residents are foreign born, and there are 150 plus languages spoken in the Seattle school district.”
Rand whistled.
“Myanmar is number three on the list,” Shorty continued. “Iraq and Somalia lead. But then Myanmar. Myanmar is catching up, however. But that’s where it gets complicated. The Burma ethnic group make up the majority of people in Myanmar and dominate the government. But the government recognizes over 100 other ethnic groups and then there are Rohingya who are Muslims and aren’t recognized. That’s a disaster unfolding, by the way — but it’s not our disaster, thankfully. Karen and a couple of other ethnic groups who fled Burma for Thailand are the largest refugee group in Seattle, but there is also a large Burmese immigrant community established here — Burmese ethnicity, I mean.”
Shorty paused and looked frustrated. “You know the difference between refugee and immigrant?”
Mac nodded. He thought so, anyway. “Refugees didn’t choose to leave their country, they were forced,” he offered. “Immigrants wanted to come here — although they may want to come here because their country is war-torn or has faced famine. Different routes to legitimate papers, right?”
Shorty looked approving. “That will do,” he said. “And refugees usually are poorer and had less preparation when moving here. Destitute. Really, that they survive at all is amazing.”
He paused, as if he was considering something. Mac waited. Shorty was first generation American himself. His mother was Mexican and his father was Filipino. But Shorty shook his head and went in a different direction. Mac wondered what he’d been going to say; maybe he’d remember to ask him.
“So Myanmar is a mess,” Shorty said. “They just elected a civilian president for the first time, but the military still controls 25-30 percent of the parliament. And the military is Burma ethnicity.”
“Our congregation in the Mae La camp was almost entirely Karen,” Naomi volunteered. “The military would destroy their villages, make them work for nothing, and they’d flee across the border to Thailand, a much more stable and prosperous country. There used to be several refugee villages inside Thailand along the border, but Thailand started consolidating them into Mae La because the numbers got to be too much. But then the refugees were trapped inside the camps. So teaching them English, that kind of thing, offered them a way out. Samuel was a good preacher, but even more, he had a heart for the people.” She smiled sadly. “So much of his heart for the people, and nothing left over for his wife.”
It was Shorty who patted her hand. Mac took a deep breath, because he had questions, and they were personal. An interview, he reminded himself. “Naomi? You never remarried, but you were quite young,” he said quietly. “Was it because you knew you weren’t really free? That the death certificate wasn’t real?”
“Mac!” Shorty said indignantly.
Naomi smiled at Shorty but shook her head. “No, you all have to be wondering how could I have been so dumb? But truly, you have to realize how protected I was. I grew up in a Mennonite home and lived there to go to college. I met Samuel at church, never dated anyone else. We got married after graduation, and then we went to Bible college for a year before the Nazarene Mission Board hired us and sent us out. We worked together in the camps for three years before I got pregnant. I thought we had a good marriage — but what did I have to compare it to? We worked together well in the camps. I thought I loved him, and that he loved me.”
She took a deep breath, and they were silent. “But then, over the next few years, he and I grew farther apart,” she said quietly. “I thought Kate deserved to be our priority — he felt God’s call to minister to the refugees superseded everything. We fought about it, but he was head of the house, and I had to submit to his decision. But finally....” She stopped for another breath.
“Someone grabbed Kate,” she said. “They wanted ransom — they thought we were rich. We tried to tell them we weren’t. But they didn’t believe us, and compared to what they were living in, I can’t say I blame them. The Thai military came in and busted up the camp, destroyed homes, used clubs on some of the men. They found her. She wasn’t hurt. Wasn’t even scared.”
“She knew them,” Mac guessed. Naomi nodded.
“They were a part of the church,” she said. “And I couldn’t deal with that. Samuel wanted to continue on as if nothing had happened, but I couldn’t. So I defied him and brought Kate home. To go to school, I told everyone, and they all nodded. It was a compromise that all missionary couples struggle with. We went back during the summers, but I could tell Samuel didn’t really care if we were there or not. So we stopped going. And he would come home for Christmas.” She shrugged. “Then the knock on the door. Did I know something was amiss? No. Should I have known? I don’t know — I found the papers you asked about, Mac. I looked them over, and they still look real to me. But I’ve never seen another death certificate! Or another life insurance policy, for that matter. I never could afford anything beyond what the university offers as a benefit.”
“I’d like to take a look at them,” Shorty said quietly, and she nodded.
“So why didn’t you remarry?” Everyone turned to look — the question came from Angie, who was leaning in the doorway listening. “Everyone has gone to their rooms to study, including Maiah,” she told them. "I wanted to hear.”
“Come join us,” Naomi invited. “Another woman in this crowd would be welcome.”
Angie laughed, and people made room around the table. Tim took Angie’s spot in the doorway, where he could hear the conversation and keep an eye on the front door. Mac was unwillingly impressed with the guy this trip out.
“I found I liked being alone,” Naomi said simply. “I could make choices for myself, and because I was a widow, the church didn’t rag on me too much about it. I had a job, I had this place with interesting students coming and going, and of course, I had Kate. I started the Sunday dinners. Got active on campus. Learned to like classical music.”
She smiled at Mac. “Kate told me you were startled when she confessed she hadn’t told her husband about what was going on.”
Mac nodded. “She said she was afraid if she told him, he would decide that they should go to the authorities and that could have repercussions for Maiah and Samuel, if he was truly still alive. And I couldn’t imagine over-ruling someone like that. This is Kate’s family — and she would know more than he does.”
“Anthony is a good man, and they’re good for each other,” Naomi stressed. “But the church teaches that the man is the authority in the home. He’d listen to her — of course, he would. But he would assume that he made the final decision. And honestly, Kate assumes that too. That’s what the church teaches. Someone has to make the final decision, and that’s the man.”
Mac tried to wrap his mind around it. OK, he got that someone had to make a final decision — he’d been in the military after all. He understood chain of command. And sometimes you didn’t like the order that came down, but you shut up and said ‘yes, sir.’ But he didn’t want a military structure for a marriage! That was insane.
“That’s what God ordered,” Tim injected. “Man is to be the authority over his wife as Jesus is the authority over the church.”
Mac frowned. “I don’t think that means what you think it does,” he said slowly. “Seems like Jesus is willing to tolerate a lot of different opinions considering how many denominations there are.”
Naomi got the giggles at that. Tim just stared at him with an open mouth. Even Rand cracked a smile.
“What?” Mac said. “Am I wrong?”
Naomi was watching him when he met her eyes. She was still amused. Mac sighed. He’d have to ask Janet.
“So if Angie came to you with some crisis, and you thought she was making the wrong choice, what would you do?” Naomi asked.
Mac grimaced. “Argue with her,” he admitted. Everyone laughed, including Angie. “She argues with me when she thinks I’m being stubborn and closed-minded. But I would never think I had the right to impose a decision on her — especially if it was her family? Or her area of expertise? H... heck no.” There was more laughter, and he gave a half-shrug. “If it affected both of us, we’d argue until we reached a compromise. It would be harder if I thought she was putting herself in danger. That is my area of expertise, after all. And especially in an emergency situation, I might act and explain — or apologize later.”
“Like yesterday when you interfered with McBride,” Angie interjected.
He nodded. “I have a problem being over-protective,” he admitted. “Not just of Angie, but of everyone I’ve collected as mine, I guess. That used to be a short list. It keeps growing.” The last was said a bit sourly, and he winced. He didn’t mean to imply he regretted Kate asking for help.
“And that attitude is amazing to someone who grew up in the church like I did, or like Kate — things haven’t changed very much,” Naomi said.
“And most of us think Mac is kind of a Neanderthal about things,” Shorty offered to everyone’s laughter. Mac couldn’t argue.
“But I just push back,” Angie said. “Like in the Cascades. He would have left me behind to keep me ‘safe,’ but when I said no, he listened and let me come along. And yeah, for a big, macho Neanderthal, it’s pretty amazing.” She reached over and patted his arm.
“So, yes, I didn’t think much about the details of Samuel’s death,” Naomi said frankly. “I missed him — or the idea of him. But that grew fainter as the years went on. And I like my life.”
Mac nodded slowly. “Thank you for being willing to talk about it,” he said sincerely.
Naomi smiled. “Let me get those papers, and I think there are more brownies.”
“The brownies are excellent,” Rand said. “I’ll help with the papers. Maybe we can work out a deal — I’ll do guard duty for more homemade brownies.”
Naomi laughed. Mac thought she sounded freer, like she’d needed to get that off her chest for a very long time. What a hell of a way to live.