“We were only kids.”
“But that’s just it. You all needed me. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I had to figure out how we’d all survive, make sure Cole was potty trained, that your hair was braided and everyone brushed their teeth before bed. I think it was a decade before I had a chance to catch my breath.”
“Good thing Grandma wanted company in that apartment.”
“Good thing. Rent control is a thing of beauty, Ashley. Although it might not be enough to keep me from moving somewhere else.”
“Move? You can’t move!” She was so outraged that Jacquie found herself smiling again. “That’s home base. It’s sacred. It wouldn’t be Christmas anywhere else...”
“If I decide to move, you’ll be the first to know,” Jacquie said, trying to reassure her. “The apartment is far too big for me, but it’s too cheap to make anything else look like a good choice.” She didn’t mention the ghosts.
“So stay.”
“We’ll see.”
“Mom talk for ‘I’ll decide and you’ll live with it’,” she said.
Ashley had always been the perceptive one.
“Where would you move?” she asked instead.
“I was offered a job at the sister club in San Francisco.”
“But it would be like starting over.”
“Exactly.”
“But we have history in that place and in New York! It’s home!”
“Things change, Ashley. They have to. I thought you’d be glad if I was closer, or would that cramp your style.”
“I want to meet this guy,” her daughter said instead of replying.
“It’s not Pierce,” Jacquie said, even as she wondered whether it was. “I’ve been thinking about moving for a while.”
“But you never said anything.”
“I’m still thinking. If and when it happens, I’ll let you know. Don’t worry—I won’t chuck your stuff without checking first.”
Ashley exhaled. “That’s just the thing. I’ve been thinking of coming back east and working on some indie projects there. I’m tired of working all the time, and Cole says that virus is going to get bad.”
“I’ve seen a bit on the news about it.”
“He’s got some prof who is really into it, a virus hunter who’s been to Africa a bunch of times. He goes looking for the source of infectious diseases.”
Jacquie shook her head. “Tell me that Cole isn’t thinking of pursuing that specialty.”
“You know how he always wants to save the world,” Ashley said. “But he’s got me thinking about where I want to be if things go wrong.”
Jacquie remembered Pierce’s story of Christmas in Abu Dubai.
“I want to be home, Mom. Is the spare room available for rent?”
“Of course.” It would be good to have Ashley back in town, but Jacquie didn’t want to influence her decision.
“Good. I’ll let you know what I decide.” Ashley laughed. “Oops, here’s a text from Brandon because your line is busy. And another from Cole. You okay now, Mom?”
“Fine. Thank you.”
“Seriously, Mom. Think twice about throwing back the SEAL. I think he has promise.”
They said goodnight and Jacquie hung up the phone, then went to look at her gallery of pictures. She expected her ghosts to gather close, but instead she heard Pierce, telling her off.
She’d never heard him raise his voice. But he was furious with her, because she wouldn’t take a chance on them together.
That plus her daughter’s words made Jacquie wonder whether she had it all wrong.
Pierce was still simmering when he got home, even though he’d walked the whole way. No one had stepped into his path, and he knew his irritation with Jacquie had to show. It faded during his walk to a dull roar, but he was still annoyed with her when he entered the silent apartment.
She thought he couldn’t change.
He’d show her wrong. There was nothing that got to Pierce like a challenge and Jacquie had thrown down the proverbial gauntlet.
He slung his coat over a chair on the way to the bedroom and retrieved the one box from the top shelf of the closet. It was still sealed with packing tape, and Pierce couldn’t remember how long ago he’d last looked inside. He carried it to the kitchen counter, stared at it for a moment, then cut it open.
It was his box of memories. His entire past was in this one box, sealed safely away.
The football was there, of course, tucked down one side. It was smaller than he remembered, a little bit more battered, but still had that smell. He could close his eyes and be on that grassy field behind the high school again, a teenager again, without a care in the world. He could almost hear Drew’s laughter.
Pierce set the football aside and dug deeper. His military ID was there, his service medal from Greater Alghenia, his SEAL Trident secured in a small padded box. Then there were a lot of loose photographs. He couldn’t remember having so many, but he perched on a stool and went through them.
The top one was of five-year-old Farah bestowing the service medal upon him. Pierce was on one knee, head bent, as the solemn and overdressed princess stretched to put the ribbon around his neck. The medal hung between them. Her parents watched with obvious pride and pleasure. His team was arrayed behind him, all of them in dress uniform. Pierce picked up the medal, its gross grain ribbon folded now, and ran his thumb across its surface. His anger faded before the sweetness of the memory and the satisfaction of a mission completed successfully.
His butt had been sore, but no one would have guessed.
He looked closely at the others in the picture again. Lisa MacAvoy was smiling broadly. Mack was a short bundle of energy with a laugh that could be heard half a mile away. Ultimately, his second-in-command in Greater Alghenia, she was a whip-smart lawyer who held the
