“Well, actually, it’s something like that. A phone call to some helpful people.”
“Crap.”
“Whatever you say. The thing is, these people are dangerous. They’re tying up loose ends right now. I’m probably one of those loose ends. They might come for you to get to me. They might have gotten to Henry. I don’t know.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“His unit. Please, Suzanne. Trust me.”
“What have you done?”
“I did it all for you. For your mother. For Taylor. Because I love you.”
“What did you do? Are you a traitor?”
“No, no. Of course not. Nothing so drastic. Every so often, I’d have to move some things around. That’s all. Just a little bit of information occasionally. Nothing top secret. I made one bad choice, Suzie, and then, well, I wish you knew how hard it’s been for me. Because since then, I haven’t had options. I had to keep doing what I was doing to protect you.”
“Oh, Dad. How could you?” She felt sick inside. It was like a door had opened, a door she’d kept barred and bolted against something dark and sinister she knew lurked beyond. A thing she’d known existed on a subliminal level. The lavish vacations, the expensive gifts. She’d sensed something amiss for years. The realization and horror flooded into her.
“Say something,” he said.
“There’s no excuse. I wish you weren’t my father.”
“I didn’t make an excuse. I’m telling you why. I did it for you. All for you.”
“Bullshit. You did things to make yourself feel better. That’s not the same.”
“You’re wrong. I wanted to give you everything. A better life for you than the one I had. I sacrificed every—”
“Henry’s life. My childhood. My future. How dare you?”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, young lady.” Like he believed it.
Suzanne stood, warming to the anger, welcoming it. A lifetime of broken promises erupting. “I didn’t want money. I wanted you.” She punctuated the statement with fists pounding on the table, the drinks shaking. People were looking at them. She didn’t give a damn.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. It was.”
“You’re not being fair. I—”
“You were gone. That’s what you were. All I wanted was for you to see me. To go to the park or fishing or read a book together and for you to listen to me. You never listened. And I went on believing in you. I clung to this image of you. I thought you were doing something that mattered so I made excuses for you. But you just kept on breaking my heart. God, what was I thinking. You’ve done it for the last time, Daddy. I don’t want to see you again. Ever.”
“Suzy-Q, don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
“Oh, but I do. I had this picture of you in shining dress whites with medals and strength and courage. You were my hero. And you never should have been.”
“Come on—”
“You’re still not listening. You let me down in every way that mattered to me. Because I believed, through the long deployments, the nannies, the when’s Daddy coming home, that you were doing something good. It was a lie. You are a lie.”
“You could die if you stay here. Things are getting worse. Taylor could die. Don’t let your anger at me cloud your judgment. You and your mother—”
“Yeah, Dad, while we’re at it, let’s talk about Mom. She was the bee’s knees for a mother. I was always an inconvenience, a disappointment. Never elegant enough, smart enough, to be seen in front of her friends. Give me a break.”
“Well, you certainly inherited her temper.”
“You think? How about this? Fuck you.”
If Suzanne had hoped to provoke a reaction, she was wrong. Her father nodded and stood, there in the bar with the flies and the tourist outfit. He looked wounded as he extended his hand.
“Okay, then,” he said. “You’re hurt and angry. I understand.”
Suzanne stared at him.
“You’re going to shake my hand, you miserable son of a bitch? I’m telling you good-bye forever, your only child, your daughter, and you offer to shake my hand?”
“You hate me right now. I figured a hug was out of the question.”
“Go hop on a plane. Or a sub or a helicopter or whatever your plan is!”
“Please come with me. Maybe I was a shitty father. I let you down, I’m sure. You don’t need to even like me. But please trust me one last time. After you’re safe, after Taylor is safe, you never have to see me again. At least let me do this for you.”
“No. You’ve done enough. When you had the chance to do it right, you didn’t. God. I should have seen this. You miserable, evil bastard.”
“All right. I’m sorry for all of it. I love you, whether you believe it right now or not. I love Taylor, too. And Henry was a good man.”
He turned heel and wound his way through the crowded bar and Suzanne watched him leave until he was lost in the shadows, which is where he had always been.
Good-bye is the hardest word. Even though you say it, it’s not over with the word. Some good-byes take a lifetime. She’d been telling her father good-bye since she could remember him; her first vivid recollection she was certain was her own was of begging him not to go, as he stood tall in a shining white uniform in their driveway and he pried her from his legs and walked out the door for what seemed like forever. Now it really was forever.
She’d been saying good-bye to Henry, too, for years. The first years, parting was bittersweet, anguish and anticipation wrapped around each other, and each farewell held the promise of a glorious reunion.
For the last couple of years, though, a darkness had tainted these departures, and Suzanne had fantasized about a life without Henry even when he was home, at first in an innocent, rankled kind of way, and then in a more serious and corrosive and calculating fashion. She’d made up her mind to extricate him from her life, to divorce herself of him, and yet had not had the guts to tell him to his face. She’d begun the legal process of saying good-bye, started a thing she wished she hadn’t, and now, it was too late. Henry was gone and she’d said good-bye with a lawyer and a paper and now she realized she hadn’t meant it in the first place. She’d wanted to be seen and understood and heard. She’d needed to be valued and envision a future together in which she wouldn’t feel like she had to fight tooth and nail for these things and then resent him for not meeting her needs. Perhaps, she reasoned, she’d merely wanted to get his attention.
Suzanne felt a kind of self-loathing and grief she’d never known before, the feeling of falling through a maelstrom of pain bereft of hope and she blinked back tears of regret.
“Good-bye,” she whispered, choking on the word.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HEROES
COLORADO
Henry sat up with a jolt. Two ideas formed almost simultaneously. He tore off the oxygen mask.
“Sarn’t Major,” he said.
Martinez screwed up his eyebrows, his own face obscured behind a mask misted with condensation. “What?”
“The reporter.” It still hurt to talk. “SAT feed.”
“Ugh,” Martinez grunted, his face clouding.
“If—”
“Shit.”
Henry and Martinez stood at the same time. Carlos remained with his back against the fire truck’s front tire. “Now what?” said Carlos.
“We can use the satellite feed to upload this data,” Martinez said. “Maybe. If they’ve got a truck with a dish. I should’ve thought of that before. Stay here and rest; Henry and I will go find her.”