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Gentle waves lapped the shore, skirting the little girl who was crouched just beyond their reach. She wore a bright yellow dress, her bare feet planted firmly in the sand. I watched as she pushed a cadre of seashells around, first burying one and then uncovering it. The rest of the shells waited patiently for their turn, surrounding the buried one like a troop of soldiers, waiting for orders.
“Eliza!” I called, waving her over.
She picked up the whole collection of shells and thrust them into her pocket. “Daddy!” She skipped across the beach toward me, her perfect smile reminding me of Clark.
I took a sip of lemonade, offering it to her as she got closer. Eliza leaned over, scooping the straw into her mouth with her tongue. She took a thirsty gulp, then made a smacking noise with her lips.
“Is that good?” I teased.
“Where’s Mommy?” Eliza asked.
“Inside,” I answered, smoothing the feather soft hair out of her eyes.
“Where’s Gammy?” Eliza chirped, taking two shells out of her pocket and balancing them on my knees.
“Remember, Gammy went to visit her friends?” I said, explaining the situation for the thousandth time.
We were staying with my grandmother in her private beach house. She’d already established a safehouse far from all the violence and corruption of the modern world. We’d had a difficult conversation before Eliza was born. Clark didn’t know if we should take the child away from civilization, but I disagreed.
“I want her to be safe,” I argued, holding Clark in my arms in that apartment off the coast of Portugal. “Her parents have too many enemies. I can’t be sure that New Dawn is dead, and that puts all of us in danger.”
Clark had finally agreed, and I contacted my grandmother to ask her if we could stay.
“Of course,” my grandmother replied. She made space for us on the second floor, giving us two bedrooms, one for Clark and me and one for Eliza. And she rolled up her sleeves to pitch in when it came to childcare.
The three of us traded off, and that way everyone enjoyed spending time with Eliza but no one felt overwhelmed. When Clark wanted a shower or a break, I would take Eliza for a walk. If I needed to contact someone, then Clark took Eliza down to her woodshop. And when Clark and I wanted a date night, Grammy Gretchen would snuggle up on the couch with Eliza and watch a cartoon.
At the moment, Gretchen was visiting friends on the mainland, leaving Clark and me alone with our daughter.
“Let’s go find Mommy,” I suggested, reaching out for Eliza’s hand.
She followed me happily, talking about her seashell army and how they’d managed to find the hidden spy.
“Where did you come up with that?” I asked. To my knowledge, no one had ever shared the information that we were spies with the youngest member of our family.
“Gammy showed me,” Eliza said.
“I’ll have to talk with Gammy,” I rumbled. It wasn’t my intention to encourage Eliza to get into the family business.
“Hey there, kids,” Clark said, stepping out onto the porch.
“Mommy!” Eliza said, charging up the stairs as if it had been more than thirty minutes since she saw her mother.
Clark scooped her daughter up, strong arms holding the child close. I kissed her on the nose, wondering how I’d ever found happiness without her. As we stood there, basking in the sunlight, I heard a warning siren.
Clark glanced at me, a hint of panic in her eyes. We ducked into the beach house, following the sound of the alarm to the basement. Eliza clutched at her mother’s shirt, taking her cues from us. She wasn’t upset, but I could see she was a little bit apprehensive.
We pushed through the false wall into the hidden communications center and saw a light flashing on a side panel. Clark pushed the button, giving me a quizzical glance. It took me a minute to interpret her look. She was commenting on the sound of the alarm and how incongruous it was to the actual threat level.
“Hello?” she asked, leaning into the communications panel.
“Clark!” a familiar voice came back.
“Unca Lukas!” Eliza chirped, squirming in her mother’s arms.
Clark set her down and Eliza climbed up onto a chair to better reach the microphone.
“Hey, Liza,” Lukas said. “How’s the beach?”
“Fine,” Eliza said.
“Ixnay on the each-bay,” Clark growled. We didn’t want it broadcast over the airwaves that we were on a tropical island.
“Ixnay! Ixnay!” Eliza cheered.
“What’s up?” I demanded.
“We need someone with your expertise,” Lukas admitted hesitantly. “The CIA is wondering if you’ll come out of retirement.”
Clark looked at me. I could see the appeal on her face and the excitement Lukas’s news generated. I was feeling much the same, a little bit stir crazy after four years of seclusion. We both looked down at Eliza, who grinned up at us. She knew something was about to happen.
“How would you like to meet your Uncle Lukas?” Clark asked.
“Hooray!” Eliza cheered, throwing her hands up in the air.
THE END
