Amanda King Stetson
Amanda was pleasantly surprised when she read the contents of the envelope she’d retrieved. “Wow.”
Lee, who was across the breakfast table perusing the morning newspaper, looked over the top. “What?”
She indicated the papers in front of her. “Phillip’s last few assignments, including that civics project he’d turned in but hadn’t yet gotten back. He got an A.”
“In civics?”
“In civics,” she confirmed. “And he did good work, Lee. This would’ve been acceptable coming in from one of the Agency’s junior operatives. He’d been tracking the use of media as propaganda, focusing on some examples, and this paper was about one of those cases. You remember that report that supposedly proved that AIDS was created at Fort Detrick as a bioweapon?”
“Yeah,” he said, laying the paper down. “Duffy and Jenkins chased that one around for nearly a week to find its original source. That wasn’t too long ago, either. I’m impressed he was able to find out enough for a school paper.”
She slid the schoolwork across the table. “I picked this up yesterday, when I went over to do Jamie’s transfer paperwork while you were still in Interrogation.” She’d intentionally left the premises between his first and second interviews, both to cool down after finding out she’d been kept out of the loop, and to demonstrate lack of collusion between the two of them. Everything needed to be by-the-book from here on out. “They’d had the high school send it over when I called for the appointment.”
He flipped pages, his eyebrows steadily going up. “This is good work. Where’d he get his information?” He turned the report over to flip back the last few pages, shaking his head at the bibliography. “Oh, come on, Phillip, no one’s going to believe this even if your father is a lawyer.” Then his face froze. “Oh, Amanda. I’m so sorry.”
It actually took some thought on her part before she understood the apology: he’d referred to Phillip as though he were still alive. That hurt, but not the way it had at first. Is this me learning to adjust? she wondered. Because I don’t know if that would honor his memory or not.
He wouldn’t want you to actively grieve forever, argued a different part of her mind.
She shook her head to clear it. “So where do you think he got the information?”
Lee was paging through the paper more intently now. “Okay, well, there’ve been no intelligence breaches. But damn, he’s good. He’s citing the Post, the Examiner, and Metro Weekly, and those are just the newspapers. Looks like he also got some stuff from NPR and PBS recordings, too, and apparently, he interviewed a couple of folks from Briarwood to get some background information and confirm his ideas.” He looked up. “How’d he know about Briarwood?”
Amanda felt her lips thin. “He was with me when we took some baskets over one time. But he stayed with me the entire time he was there, and I don’t know how he managed to get back over there without me finding out.”
“It’s on the 33 Bus Route,” said Lee. “He could’ve taken the 16E in and changed over at Gallery Place. Or he could’ve asked Joe to take him during one of his weekends.”
She made a mental note to ask. Phillip had technically been old enough to ride the WMATA buses by himself, but that didn’t mean she would have felt comfortable letting him. They hadn’t used transit that much; there was a school bus, and once her mother had been licensed, she’d begun leaving the car at home at least once a week. After Lee began openly picking her up in the mornings, that frequency had become two or three times a week.
“Amanda?”
She had to shake her head to clear it again. “He was still working on that project when he…when the crash happened. It was all year long, in fact, and sometime this spring they’re going to do presentations for the school and for any parents who want to come in and watch.”
Lee’s voice gentled. “Do you want to go?”
“No, that’s not what I was thinking about. Lee, when Mother and Phillip were in the car that day, they were on their way back from ordering a birthday present for Jamie. It was supposed to be a surprise, a scaled down version of one of those photographer’s vests, though I don’t know why it had to be ordered since those aren’t that unusual. I guess it’s because he was still in small men’s sizes. And do you know what? I’ve not heard from the store, either, so I should probably call them. The thing is, though, to throw Jamie off their trail, they’d told him they were going to the library so that Phillip could do extra research on this project. They’d been at the park playing basketball just before Mother picked him up, so someone could have overheard that conversation. And if they did, and if Phillip mentioned he’d found what he thought might be evidence of disinformation, and if he was right about that just by chance —” she broke off as horror dawned. “Oh, my gosh.”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “If someone had been observing and perceived that as a threat, they could’ve decided they needed to take care of it.”
“Which is a motive that we hadn’t even considered,” she agreed. “We never thought they might have actually been going after either Mother or Phillip.”
He stood up. “I’m calling Francine.”
Amanda had made meatloaf for dinner, which was always a favorite, but Jamie was clearly in a bad mood. She wasn’t in all that much better of one; Francine had been audibly irritated at Lee’s call and had told him to buzz off. In so many words, and her tone had clearly indicated that her next words might not even be that polite.
He’d sighed. “I guess we’re going to have to wait until Monday.”
At the time, Amanda had reminded him that Francine and Jonathan were going out on what the former had termed a very special date. “I think,” she’d concluded, “you and I both know what that means. Or at least, we both know what Francine hopes that means.”
Lee had scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I’m happy for her. I really am. But the timing stinks.”
“When has our timing ever been good?”
He’d laughed, and they’d somehow managed to get through the rest of the day, but then Jamie had stomped through the door with a murderous scowl on his face, followed by a frazzled-looking Joe and Carrie. She’d seated them quickly, but not before Lee had looked a question over at her.
“Don’t ask me,” she’d whispered as they put the finishing touches on the meal. “Although I don’t think that’s related to the Ivory Coast posting. Joe told me they weren’t going to tell Jamie about it until they knew the exact date they’re leaving.”
Lee’s lips had thinned. “That’s going to make it worse, not better. And God help us if Jamie finds out we’ve known the whole time.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” she’d warned him just before going to the living room to let everyone know dinner was ready. Very little had been said during the meal itself, which was telling. Carrie in particular had been uncharacteristically quiet, spending nearly the entire meal with her eyes on her plate. She’d picked at her meal until Joe laid his hand on her shoulder. That had gotten her to relax and eat, but she still wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Had they told Jamie their news after all?
After dinner, as they were all settling into Lee’s and her living room, Jamie decided to sprawl out on the floor with his back against one of the side tables.
“Jamie,” said Joe. “There’s a bench right there.”
“I know. I like this fine.”
“I’m glad you like it. Now get up on the bench anyway.”
At least Joe was getting better at being direct when dealing with children. He really was making an effort. It was a shame that he couldn’t take the next logical step by realizing how much leaving would affect Jamie even at his current age.
Lee caught her eye, and they exchanged a long look before he broke the silence. “All right, sport. You want to tell us what’s going on?”
“Nothin’.”
“Something,” Amanda insisted. “But would you prefer we hear it from your dad and Carrie instead?”
“No!” he exclaimed. “I just…look, can’t we just watch TV or something? I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”
“Talk about what?”
The look he gave her in response was particularly nasty, even when compared with his earlier scowl. “How it was Dad’s idea that you transfer me in the middle of the school year. Don’t you have — what do they call it? Primary custody?”
“Yes,” she answered, “And I do. But I agree with your father. Things have gotten too bad for you at Arlington Heights.” She glanced over at Joe. “If he hadn’t brought it up first, I would have.”
“Why? All my friends are there!”
“Including the ‘friends’ you were fighting with?” asked Joe. “Or the friends who called you and Carrie both bad names just because of her skin color.”
“That’s just her being super sensitive.”
“James Richard!” snapped Amanda, shocked. How could he even think such a thing, never mind say it in front of his stepmother! “You apologize this instant.”
His chin came up. “I meant it. Kids say stupid stuff all the time.”
“Yeah, like how not liking being called an ugly name is ‘super sensitive’ on Carrie’s part!” snapped Joe.
“Joe,” said Amanda gently. An argument wasn’t going to do anything except hurt feelings even worse. “Why don’t we ask Carrie what she thinks?”
Carrie was looking at the floor. “I don’t want to be the cause of any problems.”
“You aren’t,” said Amanda. “But you and I, young man, are definitely having a one-on-one talk about this attitude of yours.”
Jamie’s response was a shrug.
“Don’t just shrug it off like it’s no big deal!” retorted Joe.
“Joe.” This time, it was Carrie who reproved him, but he shook his head.
“No,” he continued. “You’re my wife!”
“But she’s not my mother,” sniped Jamie. “She’s just my stepmother.”
“That’s not winning you points with anyone in this room,” Amanda warned him, although she made the effort to keep her voice even. “If anything, you’re showing us that transferring you is exactly what needs to happen.” She flicked her gaze over. “Carrie, since Jamie won’t apologize, I will. I don’t know why this is happening, but it’s not how either Joe or I ever raised the boys, even before you were in the picture.”
“It’s all right,” she whispered.
“No,” said Lee. “It’s not. Jamie, I’m ‘just’ your stepfather. Do you feel the same way about me?”
Amanda cringed even before Jamie started nodding. That hadn’t been the best tactic.
Lee took a long breath and let it out slowly. “I see.”
Jamie fixed him with an accusative glare. “You think transferring me’s a good idea too, so why does that even matter? Why do I even matter? It’s not like any of this would’ve happened if the school hadn’t complained. You’re all so busy with other things that you never even think about me that much!”
At that, Lee’s temper flared. “That is way out of line, damn it —” he broke off. “Okay, I’m not your father, but this is my house and —”
“— and I’m only in it ’cause you married Mom! Which you lied about doing, and then the two of you moved over here just so you could shove me onto Dad and Carrie whenever your job keeps you out late! And you’re selling the house so we won’t even have to remember Phillip or Grandma anymore!”
All of Amanda’s breath left her body. Yes, teenagers could be difficult and mean, but this was her son! How could he even think that, especially after all the years she’d spent focusing nearly exclusively on her children?
“James,” said Joe, his voice a growl. “Go up to your room. Now.”
He jumped to his feet. “Fine! You don’t like what I’m saying so you just push me back off on Mom? Why doesn’t anyone care what I think?” There were tears running down his face. “Do you even want me anymore? Any of you?”
Around Amanda, the room was spinning faster and faster.
“Why isn’t anyone answering me!” cried Jamie.
Lee had managed to get his temper back under control. “Because we — we all love you so much that it hurts to hear you this angry and upset and…and we want to make it better.” His delivery was awkward and hesitant, but Amanda felt a little bit of pride trickle through her anguish. It was still so hard for him to verbalize his feelings with anyone other than her, and even harder for him to swallow his anger when it was justified. “And we — God, Jamie, how could you ever think anyone wouldn’t want you? You’re too…” his hands were visibly shaking. “You’re — I —”
“Lee’s right,” said Carrie, her expression suddenly intense. “We do want you. All of us, including him and me.”
“Then why aren’t any of you listening to me!” At that, he dashed up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door so hard it shook the walls.
“Well,” said Carrie after a moment. “That could have gone better.”
“You don’t say,” muttered Lee. “Now what?”
“We definitely won’t tell him about our assignment yet.” She paused. “You know, I can take him back and forth to Swanson instead of making him ride the bus, and he might feel more seen that way.”
Joe shook his head. “We don’t want him to get too used to anything like that.”
“I’m only talking about a couple of weeks. No more than a month. Just to give him a tangible reminder while you and Amanda work things out more permanently.”
Joe continued to shake his head, his expression dubious. Lee was doing the same thing, and when they realized it, they exchanged a long look. But then, they both took deep breaths and nodded.
“All right,” said Joe. “But only for a couple of weeks. I’ll go up and let him know.”
Amanda was still rooted in her seat, barely able to think — never mind speak — and as they waited, she looked anywhere but at Lee or Carrie. Her own child feeling this way about her…
Then Joe appeared back at the top of the stairs, his face pale. “Amanda, you’d better get up here.”
The request was a catalyst; she raced up the stairs before stopping cold at the bedroom door, gasping. Jamie’s room was a shambles, with things thrown everywhere, a few of which had broken. Jamie himself was curled into a ball on the bed, shoulders shaking.
With a deep breath, she walked in and put her hand on his back. “Jamie, we’re here. Can you look at us?”
Slowly, all too slowly, he uncurled. His face was streaky and red. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad, I’m sorry and I’m sorry what I said about Carrie too. I just —”
“I know,” said Joe. “Pack a bag. You’ll come stay with us tonight, so your mother has a chance to clean up in here.”
“I can do that —”
“No,” Amanda croaked. “I will. It’s all right. You just rest and —” her throat closed.
Jamie got up then, and Joe wrapped his arms around her while they waited for him in the hallway. He didn’t offer her any empty platitudes, just a long moment of strength and understanding before speaking in a low voice. “This is way out of control.”
“I know,” she answered him dully, her earlier burst of energy drained. “I’ll — I’ll talk to Dr. Joyce on Monday. She’s the Agency counselor Jamie and I have been seeing since the accident. I don’t think she does intensive therapy, but she should be able to recommend someone who can do that and who has more experience with children.” She sniffled. “We’ll all need to go, you know. You, me, Lee, and Carrie.”
He leaned back and wiped her tears. “We’ll be there.”
Author’s Note:
- The WMATA bus routes as described here were the ones that existed when I was writing the story. They were probably different in 1987.