Keeping  Secrets—Part One

Kohl’s Department Store

Saturday , January 19, 2002 

11:30 AM 

“Jenna, no.” Dad shook his head. “It’s out of the question.”

“But why?” Jenna protested. “Dad, it’s just a pair of jeans.”

“Just a pair of jeans?” Dad repeated, staring at the garment that Jenna held as if it was some alien creature. “These jeans come down past your bellybutton. “

“But that’s the style—that’s what people are wearing.”

“Yeah—older people, maybe. You’re only twelve.”

“But I’m going to be thirteen soon.”

“Yeah, I know that, munchkin. But thirteen is still way too young to be showing the world your midriff.”

“Da-ad—I’m not going to be showing the world my—” a saleswoman gave them a curious stare as she passed by—Jenna lowered her voice. “I’m not going to be showing the world my midriff, okay? I wouldn’t buy a midriff top. I just want the jeans.”

Dad ran a hand back through his hair—he’d done that so often since they started shopping that his hair practically stood straight up. “Jenna the whole idea of buying jeans like this is to show something. Otherwise, what would be the point?”

He really couldn’t see, Jenna thought—he didn’t understand. Jenna let out her breath in an exasperated sigh. “Dad, the point is that this is what everyone is wearing now.  This is the style.”

“No, no—for older girls, maybe—but for someone your age—I don’t buy that.”

“This is the teen section,” Jenna reminded him.  “In eleven days I’m going to be a teenager.”

There it was—that face that Dad made whenever she said the ‘t’ word.

“Barely a teenager,”  he admitted finally; begrudgingly.

“But I’ll still be one,” Jenna said. “And these are the clothes that people are wearing. Dad please—just this pair of jeans with a really long sweater or something?” she put on her best pleading face. “Pleeasse?”

“I don’t know.” Dad held the jeans up, studying the garment from all angles. “You know, even without the midriff they’re still awfully tight.”

She couldn’t win; Jenna thought bleakly. No matter what she said he wasn’t going to give in.

“Hey—look at these here, huh?” Dad picked up a pair of jeans from a nearby table, unfolding them as he spoke. “Now these are for teenagers too, munchkin—but I think they’re still very suitable.”

“Dad, they’re baggy. No one is wearing baggy jeans.”

“Someone must be wearing them or else they wouldn’t sell them.”

“Well maybe—but none of my friends will. Not Lisa or Christy. I don’t want to be the only person wearing weird jeans.”

“These have flares in them—you like flares.”

“But not those flares. Dad—I’ll wear any top you want but I still want these jeans.”

Another long silence. 

‘Please say yes, Dad,’ Jenna said to herself silently.  ‘Just say yes.’

“We’ll wait until your Mom gets home,” he said finally. “Then we’ll decide.”

So not fair—Mom would probably take Dad’s side—Dad, who wanted to keep her a little girl forever and ever.  “When will Mom be back?” she asked him.

He didn’t look at her as he spoke, putting the clothes back. “She’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah, but how soon?” Jenna pressed.  “This next week? The week after? When?”

“Soon.” He repeated. “I really—I can’t get any more specific than that.”

That’s what he said—Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling her everything. “I still don’t understand why I can’t call her or anything.”

“I told you why,” Dad said. “She’s doing a shoot in a very remote location; she can’t get a cell phone signal there.”

“What kind of a shoot? Where is it?”

“I don’t know, all right?” Jenna could hear the exasperation in his voice; she knew that she should probably let this go but now that she’d started it was like a compulsion—one which was almost impossible to stop.  “I swear, Jenna—I know as much as you do. All I know is that it’s very remote—she’ll call us when she can. All right?”

Jenna looked down at her feet.  “All right.” She said quietly.

“Hey,” Dad patted her shoulder—she looked up at him. “What do you say we pick out some cool shirts and then we’ll get some ice cream at Baskin Robbins? Sound like a plan?”

Jenna smiled. “Yeah. It sounds good.”

“Good.”  For a moment Dad stared off into the distance—almost like he saw something—but before she could ask him what the look was gone.

“Munchkin, here—” he steered her towards a rack of clothes. “Why don’t you look at these right here—these tops—and pick any three that you like. I have to go to the restroom.”

“Any three?” 

“Any three you want—you pick them out and I’ll pay for them when I come back. Just be careful—don’t talk to any strangers or anything.”

“Dad, believe me—I know that.” 

He ruffled her hair, his expression suddenly serious.  “Yeah, I know you do. I’ll be right back.” 

“Okay.” He left and Jenna turned her attention to the tops. The green top with the three quarter sleeves was nice—there was a matching one in blue. Did blue or green look better on her?  She wished Mom or Grandma was here—they were better at answering those type of questions than Dad was. A flash of lavender caught her eyes. Her favorite color. She grabbed the article from the rack—it was a spaghetti strap tank top—a really pretty one too.  Too cold to wear by itself just yet but she could always wear it layered under a sweater or maybe as pajamas with a pair of sweat pants. 

‘Dad will never let you get that,’ her inner voice warned—and it was probably right, too; he would take just one look at that top and pronounce it off-limits till she was like thirty or something. But he did say any three tops, right? Maybe she could remind him of that.

“Hebt u de informatie?”

Dad’s voice—at least it sounded like it. But it couldn’t be, Jenna thought—as she followed the direction of the voice. Because that had sounded like another language—and as far as she knew Dad didn’t—

But it was him—she could see him clearly now; standing near the dressing rooms, talking to a short stocky man with hair so blond it was nearly white. Whatever it was he didn’t look too happy—his arms were crossed and his chin jutted out—even from this distance she could see that little knot in his jaw.

What could he be doing? Jenna’s heart pounded loudly—instinctively she ducked behind some clothes so no one would see her.

“Volgende Week—ja?.” The blond-white man replied in a funny accent. Something week? Jenna wondered.  But maybe it just sounded like week—she had no idea. And the ‘ya’ thing at the end could’ve meant something like ‘yeah’.

‘What on earth is he doing?’

Dad sighed, running his hand back through his hair. “Ja.” He repeated the same word. “Vaarwel.”  The blond-white man nodded curtly and left.

‘I shouldn’t be here,’ Jenna thought wildly—and she certainly didn’t want Dad to find her like this, skulking behind racks of clothes like she was spying on him—even though that’s exactly what she’d been doing. Dropping to her knees she crawled along the carpet towards where Dad had left her. A two year old boy, grasping tightly to his mother’s hand, gave her a curious glance.  Jenna just smiled at him—trying to look normal—just your average twelve-year old who enjoyed crawling across a carpet. A threadbare carpet at that, she realized—the placement of the clothes racks did a lot to disguise the wear and tear. And gum—Jenna saw a dried wad stuck to the bottom of one of the racks—a rack holding prom dresses, no less. Too gross.

“Jenna?” Dad’s voice echoed though out the store. “Munchkin?” Jenna winced at the worry she heard in his voice—after all that had happened this last year scaring her Dad was not something she ever wanted to do.   Slowly she stood—she could see him now—hands on his hips, his head turning as he searched for her.

‘Act casual—stay calm.’  There must be a reason for what she’d seen—maybe Dad would explain what he’d been doing all this time.

“Dad,” she called out. “I’m over here.”

“Jenna,” he strode over as soon as he spotted her. “Did I or didn’t I tell you to stay right here? For a minute I thought—” he didn’t have to say what he’d thought—Jenna knew the answer only too well.

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

“What were you thinking, going off like that? Huh?”

What were you thinking? Jenna wondered as she looked into her Dad’s face. What were you doing; talking to that man?  Things she wanted to ask but she didn’t.  “I thought I saw some really cool blouses over there,” she replied lamely.  “I just went to have a look. That’s all.”

“That’s all.” Dad repeated. “You know that you nearly scared me half to death?” his expression softened. “Well anyway, I’m just glad you’re all right and—what happened to your pants?”

Her pants? Jenna looked down at her black slacks. Formerly black slacks—it seemed as if every inch of fabric was covered  with little white speckles of lint. That’s what crawling on a carpet got you—not that she could tell Dad that. Her mind raced.

“A—um—blouse I was looking at fell on the ground under the clothes rack—I went under there to pick it up. “ That sounded plausible. Would Dad believe it, though?  Jenna held her breath.

“Was that one of the blouses you wanted to buy?” he asked her.

Jenna shook her head. “No—when I got a really good look at it I thought the color was all wrong and the material felt scratchy.”

“Well that’s understandable. Did you see anything on this rack here that you liked?”

“Yeah—these here,” Jenna selected both the blue and the green top hastily—since she couldn’t decide on the color she decided to get them both. “And this one.” The lavender tank top. She saw the look on Dad’s face as he looked at that particular garment.  “I know how it looks, but if I wear it under things, or maybe to bed—you know, like pajamas.”

“Munchkin—I’m just not so sure.”

“You said I could get any blouse I wanted, remember?”

“Yeah, of course I remember,” Dad replied. “I’m just not so sure—the straps are awfully thin for—”

It was going to be just like with the jeans, Jenna thought bleakly—at this rate she’d probably end up dressed as a nun or something. “Dad, if no one sees the straps,” she began, her voice fading off as she realized he wasn’t listening. He was silent, staring straight ahead like he had before—the same thing he’d done before he’d ‘Gone to the restroom.’

“Dad, what is it?” Jenna asked. He was silent. “Answer me—please.”

“Nothing,” Dad told her. “For a minute I thought I saw someone—but it’s nothing.”

Nothing—she wasn’t sure if she believed that or not. “You don’t need to go to the restroom again, do you?”

He looked at her sharply.”What? No—I don’t have to go anywhere—except to Baskin Robbins, of course. So these are the three tops you want to get, right?”

“Yeah,” Jenna said. “I thought you weren’t so sure about the tank top, though.”

“Well—” Dad hesitated briefly. “As long as you promise not to wear it out in public like this. Deal?”

Jenna grinned. “Deal.”

“Good.” Dad put his arm around her, steering her towards the nearest sales counter. “Let’s hurry—I could really use some ice cream right now.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jenna admitted. But as she and Dad both lined up behind the other shoppers a twinge of unease persisted. 

What had Dad been doing talking to that man? She wondered. And who was that man, anyway? She was pretty sure she’d never seen him before.  Jenna looked up at Dad—at his profile—his hand resting protectively on her shoulder.

Could he be hiding something? And if he was—what was it?

Jenna had to find out for sure.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr 

2:30 PM 

“He didn’t have a damn thing for me, Billy,” Lee paced the length of the patio as he spoke, the cell phone clutched in his hand. “All he said was he’d have it by ‘next week’. And that’s not even the worst of it.”

“What do you mean?” Billy asked.

“He approached me in public, when I was—” Lee paused, looking up at his daughter’s room. Her window was closed, he could hear music playing faintly—what she called music—he usually called it ‘noise’. She probably couldn’t hear him but he lowered his voice just in case. “When I was out shopping with Jenna at the mall.”

“What??” Billy exclaimed. “She didn’t see him, did she?”

“No—I don’t think she saw anything.”  At least he was pretty sure that she hadn’t—Jenna had been a little quieter than usual at the ice cream parlor but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. She was approaching adolescence, after all. Wasn’t it Amanda who had once told him that teenage moods could be as changeable as the tide?

Adolescence—the very word caused a lump to rise in his throat. In his mind Jenna was still a little girl—his little girl—the thought that she was becoming a teen—a young woman—it all seemed to be happening so fast. Wasn’t it only yesterday that he’d been learning how to change her diapers? Dropping her off on her first day of Kindergarten?

“So it turned out okay, then,” Billy’s voice brought Lee hurtling back to the present.

“That is not the point! She could’ve seen us—and it could’ve been very dangerous for her. My daughter doesn’t need any more danger.”

“Believe me, Scarecrow—I know that.”

“Groesbeck’s got a hell of a lot of nerve, you know that?” Lee’s fist clenched. “I swear—I’m starting to think this guy is just jerking us around.”

“Lee, you and Amanda did a full background on Caspar Groesbeck, remember?” Billy contended. “We know that he’s very high up in the Vrees Network.”

“Yeah, I know that, but still—”

“And we know he would be privy to a lot information that could bring that Network down.”

“So why isn’t he coming through with it, then? Huh? And why all these games—these surprise meetings in public?”

“Perhaps he thinks he’s in danger—that a public meeting place would be safer. And maybe he doesn’t fully trust us yet.”

“I don’t know if I fully trust him yet.”

“Until we know differently I’m afraid we have to,” Billy said. “I don’t need to tell  you that any information regarding  this terrorist cell is vital to national security—especially now.”

“Yeah,”   Lee ran a hand back through his hair. “I know how vital it is.  Okay, Billy, I’ll play along—for now, anyway.”

“See that you do,” Billy replied. “I’d like to see us shut Vrees down if we can.”

“So would I,” Lee said fervently.  “Billy has there been any word from—” he let his sentence hang—even on a secure line he didn’t want to risk giving too much away.

“Not yet,” Billy said. “Believe me—when there is I’ll let you know.” 

“I know.”  A blind trust operation, Lee thought. Deep cover—no contact allowed. He knew that  Amanda could handle herself—he knew it deep down but even that knowledge didn’t stop him from worrying.

“How’s Jenna handling this?” Billy asked.

“She doesn’t really understand,”  Lee told him. “I’ve told her she’s on a remote shoot but she’s asking a lot of questions, Billy. And if Amanda’s not here for her birthday I don’t know how I’ll explain it.”

“Well, hopefully you won’t have to,” Billy said. “Chances are this could all be wrapped up by then.”

“I certainly hope so. Talk to you later, Billy.”

“Will do—and Lee—just hang in there. Things will work out.”

Things will work out— As Lee hung up his cell he whispered a silent prayer for his wife’s safe return—and that she was having better luck on her end than he was.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

7:00 PM 

“So, did you like the frittatas?” Lee asked as he stacked the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Mmm hmm,” came his daughter’s reply. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she bent over her notebook, pen in hand, French textbook open beside her.

‘Look at me, Jenna—just look up at me—just once.’

“Is that a yes?”  he asked aloud.

She nodded. Nodded but still didn’t look up. “That’s a yes,”

“Well that’s good, munchkin,” Dad said. “I guess I was a little worried that they might be a little burnt—I left them on the broiler longer than usual.”

“They weren’t burnt,” Jenna‘s eyes remained fastened on the book. “Seriously, dad— they were fine.”

“Well that’s good.”

Something was up, Lee thought as he studied his child.  The quiet mood that had started at Baskin Robbins had progressed through the evening. At first he’d thought it was just a phase, but now—

‘She’s doing homework—homework on a Saturday.’  Usually Jenna would be watching TV or talking to friends.  That wasn’t like her—this was not normal at all.

He just had to figure out exactly what was going on here.

‘Easier said than done, Stetson.’ His inner voice reminded him—Lee shoved that thought aside, reminding himself that in his lifetime he’d interrogated KGB agents, hit men, terrorists and mobsters—

How hard could one twelve-year-old girl be?

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out again, he sat down at the table facing her. She didn’t look up—her hand went up to rub at her forehead—something she tended to do when she was stressed. “So, how’s the work going?” he asked.

“It’s fine.”

“You usually don’t do homework on a Saturday.”

A long silence—he could practically see the wheels in her head turning. “Well—it’s just that I have a lot to do this time. I didn’t want to leave it till the last moment, you know— like I sometimes do.”

“That’s understandable, munchkin.”  More silence.  He decided on a more direct approach. 

“You know,” he told her, “If there’ s anything at all that you’d like to talk about—or anything you want to  ask me— I’m right here.”

That did the trick—her head shot up, dark eyes looking into his. There was an almost pleading look on her face—for one split second he was sure that she would finally open up.

“Thanks,” her eyes returned to her book. “But there really isn’t anything. Everything’s fine.”

“You sure?” he pressed. “Nothing you want to talk about?”

A small sigh. “Not unless you count this homework as something.”

“What’s wrong with the homework?”

“Oh, everything,” came Jenna’s reply.  “You know, I thought this class would be cool when I chose it but now I don’t know.”

“Harder than you thought it would be?” 

“Not just harder,” Jenna said. “Impossible. Maybe I’m just not cut out for French—maybe I’m not cut out for any foreign language at all.”

He was making progress—Lee felt his spirits rise as he looked at his daughter. This had to be it—what was bothering her. “Jenna, don’t put yourself down,” he said. “Some things in school are harder than others. That doesn’t mean you’ll never get it.”

“Well I’m not getting this.”

“Well, maybe I can help—I do know a little French,” he explained hastily as she gave him an incredulous glance.

“Well—okay,” Jenna replied. Lee rose from his chair and came to stand behind her—looking over her shoulder.

“Are you sure your teacher doesn’t mind purple ink?” he asked her.

“Yes I’m sure—but that’s not the problem. The problem is the ‘H’s’.”

“The ‘H’s?”

“That’s it,” Jenna pointed to a list of words in the textbook. “We’re supposed to figure out which ones are—”

“Which ones are aspire and which ones are muet?”  Lee answered automatically.

Jenna looked up a him. “Yeah—she said that with some of these the la or le is abbreviated and in some of them it’s not.”  Again Jenna rubbed her forehead. “I just can’t seem to figure out which ones are supposed to be which.”

“Ahhh—” Lee tried to remember what his old French professor had taught him.  “Well most of the words that have l apostrophe –that are ‘h’ muet  are traditional French words. The ones with le or la in front of them tend to be foreign—borrowed from other languages.”

“Is that always the rule?”  Jenna asked.  “Our French teacher told us that we’d have to write down the most common words and memorize them.”

“No, it’s not always the case,” Lee told her. “For instance, see this word here? Now hero is French but it has a ‘le’ in front of it.  But the word heroine has an ‘l’ apostrophe.”

“But they sort of mean the same thing, don’t they? Except that one is male and the other one is—well that’s just mean.”  Jenna pouted.

He ruffled her hair. “Yeah, I know.  But I promise you—if you work at it you will get it.”

Jenna smiled. “Thanks. Hey—you’re really good. You pronounce the words just like my teacher does.”

Lee smiled back. “Well, I try—you’ve got to remember that I spent quite a while in France when my uncle was stationed near Cherbourg and I—”

“Do you know any other languages?”

The sudden intensity in Jenna’s voice surprised him. “Some,” he replied cautiously. “When you’ve travelled as much as I have you tend to pick up things here and there. Why do you ask?” 

Jenna shrugged. “No reason,” she said quickly. “I guess I was just curious, that’s all—I’ve never asked you that before.” 

“That’s true.” Lee said. “Finish up—you need to do your exercises and go to bed soon.” The relaxation exercises were still very much a part of their life—by now Jenna had learned how to do them on her own.

“I will, Dad,” Jenna replied. “Just a few more minutes, okay?”

He patted her shoulder briefly, kissing the top of her head. “A few more minutes.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Once Dad had left the dining room Jenna opened her notebook to the very back—practically the last page. On the top of that page she’d written in neat purple script ‘Strange Things’. She’d even underlined it. Jenna’s pen was poised over the paper, chewing her bottom lip as she’d looked over what  she’d already  written.

1.    Dad lied about going to the restroom—met with strange man—blond/white hair? I never saw him before.

2.    Dad and the blond/white haired man were speaking in another language. What kind? (she didn’t know—she still didn’t know)

3.    Dad very good at French—said he only knew a little but he knew a lot??

4.    Mom somewhere and can’t contact—even Dad doesn’t know (or isn’t saying).

5.    He said that he only had bits and pieces of other languages—I heard more than bits and pieces when he was talking to that man.

Jenna stared at what she had so far—not a whole heck of a lot. Did it mean anything? Maybe it just meant that she was letting her imagination get away from her. That she was imagining things—and even patterns that just weren’t there.

Was that what she was doing?  Then Jenna thought back to that meeting—the way Dad had looked at that man Jenna sort of doubted that they were exchanging pleasantries.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jenna wrote across the bottom of the page in neat script:

What are they up to?

 TBC

 Keeping Secrets--Part Two

Kenmore Middle School 

Monday, January 21, 2002 

3:29 PM 

“You want my opinion?”  Lisa asked.

Jenna knelt beside her open locker, putting  the books she needed into her backpack. “I don’t know—do I?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Yeah—very funny, Stetson.”

“I thought so.” 

“Well, I’m going to give you my opinion anyway,”  Lisa said.  “And my opinion is that you’re making something out of nothing.” 

“That’s your opinion?”  Jenna closed her locker and rose to her feet, shouldering her backpack.  “Something out of nothing—meaning it’s all in my imagination or something, right?”

“That’s not what I said—I didn’t say it was all in your imagination.”

“Well then where is it? Lisa, I’m telling you I saw him. I saw my dad with my own eyes—I saw him talking to that guy in some—”

“In some funny language, I know—you said. That still doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“It means something when he told me he didn’t really know any other languages.” Jenna had to practically run to keep up with her friend. “But he was talking to this guy—it looked like he knew just what he was saying.” 

Lisa sighed. “Jenna, I—”

“And he didn’t look happy. Did I mention that?  In fact, he looked angry. Then when I asked him where he’d been he said the restroom.” 

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? Isn’t it strange that he would lie about that?” 

“We’re kids,” Lisa replied as she pushed open the doors leading to the outside. “I’ve pretty much figured out that parents never tell us the entire truth of anything—they think it’s for our own good. But it doesn’t mean there’s any big conspiracy there.”

“Lisa, I’m telling you that this is more.” 

“How do you know that?”

How did she?  Jenna thought back to the list she’d made—it wasn’t much so far, she had to admit—just a bunch of random things that added up to nothing and went nowhere.  Maybe Lisa was right, but still—“I just—I have a feeling,” she explained finally. 

“A feeling—that’s really substantial.”  Lisa shaded her eyes as she scanned the  car line, looking for  her Mom’s station wagon.  “Look, Jenna—I’m not trying to be mean or anything. Really, I’m not. I just think—“

“What do you just think?”

“That your kidnapping trial wasn’t all that long ago—all that stuff you went through.”   Jenna could see the worry in her friend’s eyes.  “I think maybe you’re having a hard time coming down from it all—accepting that life is finally normal again, you know?

Having trouble coming back to normality—Jenna had never thought of it that way, but maybe Lisa had a point.  “You could be right,” she said slowly. “It is possible.”

“Of course it’s possible,” Lisa said. “Did I ever tell you what a genius I am?”

Jenna smiled as she elbowed her friend. “Watch out—or you might not be able to get that head of yours through the car door.” 

“I’m going to live there one day.”

Terri’s voice—it carried over the crowd. Jenna didn’t dare look back to see how close the girl was—the last thing she wanted to do was start something.  Apart from a few nasty looks here and there Terri had pretty much ignored Jenna since the start of the school year. That was what she preferred—and she was determined to keep it that way.

“Yeah, right,” a guy near Jenna muttered. “In your dreams, maybe.” 

“Girl, that house probably costs a couple of million at least,” another girl replied. “What makes you think you could ever afford it?”

“Well I will,” Terri said confidently. “One day. I just know it.”

“Who did you say had a swelled head?” Lisa murmured her breath. Jenna bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Despite everything though, Jenna found her eyes drawn to the house that Terri was talking about—the house that everyone knew—the house next door. Amongst a sea of normal suburban houses it stuck out like a sore thumb. An ornate iron fence surrounded the large red-brick house—correction, the red-brick mansion.  Through the fence she could see the white pillars that graced the front of the mansion—the large circular driveway paved with red interlocking brick that always looked shiny somehow—like it was always wet? But who wet it?  Jenna had never actually seen a car  parked on that drive—never seen anyone doing anything around the property and yet the house always seemed perfect, the lawn always green and manicured, even in the middle of the winter.

“Who do you think lives there?” she asked Lisa.

“Someone very, very lucky.”

“I don’t know,” Jenna shook her head reflexively. “That would be an awful lot to clean. “

“That would be the only way you could ever hope to be in a house like that, Scarface,” Terri said as she came up from behind. Instinctively Jenna stepped back.  “With a face like yours, you would have to be the maid.” 

“Put a sock in it,” Lisa told Terri.

The blond girl rolled her eyes. “What-ever,” she said. “There’s my mom, bye.”

“You know, the sad thing is that Terri could probably sleep her way into a house like that,” Lisa said.

“Lisa!”

Lisa shrugged.  “I’m only saying. Look, there’s my mom too—will you be okay out here by yourself? “ 

“I’ll be fine,” Jenna said. “Seriously. Talk to you later, huh?”

Lisa waved. “Later.”

Jenna looked at the car line—no silver ‘Vette—not yet, anyway. Where was he? After the kidnapping he usually made a point of always turning up on time.

‘Relax,’ she told herself. ‘He’s probably held up in traffic. Everything’s fine.”

“Wow,” a boy said. “Look at that limo.”

Limo? Jenna stared in amazement as the large silver vehicle pulled into the circular drive—the iron gate opening to admit the limo, which came to a halt in front of the house.

“Wonder who it could be,” another girl said. “Probably someone famous.”

“Someone famous in Arlington?”  The boy said incredulously.

Jenna watched, holding her breath as the chauffer got out of the car, opening the passenger door and helping the woman out.  A tall, very slender woman emerged, her slim figure encased in a blue gown, a fur around her shoulders.  Her dark hair was swept up in a bun, tendrils cascading down her neck.

Familiar—something about her was very familiar. The woman turned slowly—casting a quick glance in their direction.

Mom. Jenna’s chest felt suddenly constricted, making it hard to breathe. It looked just like her—the same eyes, the same face—even from this distance she could tell—she just knew.

Except it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.  Mom didn’t live in that house—she certainly didn’t dress like that—well maybe for parties but not every day. So it had to be somebody else. It just had to be.

‘Are you sure?’ a little voice whispered in her ear—doubt gnawing at her. ‘Mom’s gone—you don’t even know where she is.’  Dad had said that she was on a remote shoot, but did he really know?  He couldn’t even tell her where she was.

What was going on?

Jenna’s hands hurt—she realized her nails were cutting into her palms.  Numbly she watched as the woman went up the steps and disappeared into the house.

“Munchkin?”  Dad’s voice—his hand touched her shoulder and she gave a little jump. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” his face was filled with concern  as he looked down at her. “You all right?” 

“Yeah.”  Again Jenna glanced over at the house—the house the woman had disappeared into. Should she tell Dad about it? Probably not—she wasn’t 100 percent sure that it had been Mom and if it wasn’t it would really embarrassing.

And if it was—

Jenna shook her head.  At the moment the ‘if it was’ felt too big to wrap her head around. Mom was a filmmaker, wasn’t she?  Just like Dad. So what would she be doing in a house she didn’t even live in?

Maybe Lisa was right—maybe she was just having trouble accepting normality. She noticed Dad was still looking at her.

“I’m fine,” she told him quickly. “Really—we should probably get going.” 

For a moment or two Dad just stared at her, saying nothing—Jenna just stared back and finally Dad ran one hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “We should get going, munchkin.” 

SMK  SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr 

5:20 PM

Number six on her list.

Jenna lay on her bed on her stomach, pen in hand, looking down at the blank spot on the page.

What exactly should she write?

‘Mom living in strange house? ‘

Except she didn’t really know if Mom was actually living there, Jenna reasoned. Did she? What was it that Ms. Pace, her English teacher had told them about writing news articles? Stick to the facts—what you know for sure—and stay away from conjecture or opinion.

How about ‘Mom staying in strange house?’

No, not that either. Absently Jenna rubbed her forehead. She didn’t actually know if Mom was staying there either—all she’d seen was the limo pulling up—the chauffer getting out, opening the door for Mom.

Since when did Mom have a chauffer, anyway? This was Mom, remember—her Mom. The same Mom who clipped coupons on a Sunday and tried to find the best price on everything—who always honed in on the clearance rack in the clothing store before looking anywhere else. For heaven’s sake, Mom didn’t even take cabs that often.  And now it was a limo?

‘You don’t even know for sure that it was Mom,’ the little voice in Jenna’s head chided her.  ‘You only looked at her for a second—how do you really know?’

Except that she did know—when she had seen her—not just her face, exactly but the way she moved, the way she walked. It had been Mom, Jenna was almost certain. If you really knew a person you could recognize them just from the back of their head.

But almost certain still wasn’t completely certain. With a small sigh Jenna wrote exactly what she did know.

6.  Woman who looks like Mom, wearing a fancy dress and visiting a strange house—correction, strange mansion—in a limo??

Then she wrote a little more.

But Mom is supposed to be shooting a film in a remote location.  If it is her—carefully she underlined the ‘her’—then what is she doing here?  If it is her, does Dad know that she’s here?  Does dad even know where she is?

Has Dad been telling me the truth? 

So many questions. Jenna looked down at her list. Right now all she could see right now was a bunch of random things that didn’t come together—didn’t make any sense at all, not any of it.

Maybe that’s because there was no sense to it—and this was just her brain’s way of attempting to make something out of nothing. The problem was she just didn’t know. Her eyes went to a framed photo on her dresser—one of her favorites—a picture of Mom holding her when she was a baby. Mom’s face was in profile, she looked down at Jenna lovingly, smiling and to Jenna it looked like she was smiling back up at her—though everyone said that when babies smiled it was just gas.  But she’d never believed that.

‘Oh Mom—I  need you,”  Jenna thought as she stared at the photo intently. ‘I really need to talk to you right now.’ The ache was so deep it was almost physical. The colors and lines of the photograph blurred and swirled together. Jenna closed her eyes, taking deep breaths—fighting for control.

She couldn’t do this right now—she needed some distance, to stop dwelling on this. Hurriedly wiping at her eyes Jenna closed her notebook and stuffed it into her backpack, zipping the thing shut.

“Jenna!”  Grandma’s voice floated upstairs. 

Another deep breath. “Coming, Grandma,”  Jenna called out—trying to sound normal —more like her usual self.  She went downstairs and into the kitchen.

“There you are, darling.” In one arm grandma carried a mixing bowl.  “I was just going to put the fish into the oven and I wondered if you’d like to make a salad to go along with it.”

“Sure.”

“Just make sure to—”

“To wash my hands first, I know.” 

“Exactly,” Grandma replied.  “Your father should be home before too long and I’d like to have dinner on the table shortly. “

“I understand.”  Jenna went over to the sink and squirted some hand soap into her palms, rubbing both her hands together to lather the mixture as she ran them under the water.  “What kind of fish are we having?”

“Tilapia with a parmesan and bread crumb topping, “Grandma said. “It’s a new recipe so I’m really hoping that it works.” 

“Well it sounds great.” Carefully Jenna dried off her hands with a paper towel. Retrieving the salad bowl from one of the lower cabinets, she placed it on the counter. “I mean, I’m hungry already.”

Grandma already had the Tilapia in a glass pan—carefully she pressed the crumb mixture on top of the fish. “That’s certainly good to hear—you haven’t eaten much these past couple of nights.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”  Jenna admitted quietly. Trust Grandmothers to notice that sort of thing.

“Anything on your mind?” 

“No,” Jenna  opened the fridge and took out the lettuce and a package of cherry tomatoes.  “Well—not really.”

“Not really,” Grandma repeated. “You know that if you ever need to talk to me about anything I’m right here.”

“I know.” Grandma opened the oven and put the fish inside, closing the door.

Jenna grabbed the wooden chopping board and the green plastic knife that Mom always used for chopping lettuce.

Mom. She watched as Grandma opened the oven and put the fish inside, closing the door. Maybe Grandma knew something—maybe she had answers that no one else could—or would—provide.

“Jenna, aren’t you going to wash that lettuce first?” Grandma asked her.

“No—I usually wash it after I cut it.”

“Oh well,” Grandma shrugged.  “Chacun a son gout.”

Jenna stared.  “Shaking what?”

“No—chacun—not shaking,” Grandma said.  “It a French expression—it basically means ‘to each his own.’”

“Oh—we haven’t gone over that in class yet.” Using the lettuce knife Jenna chopped the head in half.  “I didn’t know you knew French.”

“Well, actually I don’t,” Grandma told her.  “I know a few phrases here and there—mostly picked up from Captain Curt.  He’s been to Paris a few times.”

“That’s nice.” Jenna tried to keep her tone as casual as possible. “Captain Curt is nice, isn’t he?”

“Yes, “Grandma nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“Did you know that Dad knew French?”

“No, but that doesn’t really surprise me—you know your father has traveled all over the world.”

“Yeah, I know,” she chopped one half of the lettuce lengthwise and then crosswise—the same way that Mom always did.  “Do you know if he knows any other language?”

“Well, no—” Grandma said. “But if he did, it wouldn’t really surprise me.” 

‘It might if he’d told you that he only knew bits and pieces,’ Jenna thought.  Out loud she said, “So—um—where did Dad go, exactly? He didn’t say.”

“Since he said it was work, I assume he went to IFF.” Not looking directly at her, Grandma filled a small saucepan with water and grabbed a box of noodles from the cabinet, putting the water to boil on the stove.

That wasn’t really an answer— Jenna realized.  It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t really the truth either. This wasn’t the first time she’d ever asked this question. How come she’d never noticed the evasiveness before?

‘Maybe because you didn’t want to.’

Or maybe it was all that time spent in court—getting wise to the games that lawyers and defense attorneys played with the truth.

“Why did he have to go back to work in the evening, though?”  she asked.

“Unfinished work, probably—it happens.”  

“It does happen, yeah.”  Jenna placed the chopped lettuce in a colander along with some of the cherry tomatoes and put it in the sink, turning on the water to rinse the vegetables.  “He didn’t—you don’t know if he heard from Mom or anything, do you?” 

“Jenna, look at me.” 

Jenna turned to face Grandma—now standing beside her. Grandma took Jenna’s hands in hers as she spoke. 

“Sweetheart, listen,” she said. “I know you’re probably worried about your Mother—that you haven’t been able to contact her, but I swear, she’s just fine. “

“I know that—I know it.”  Jenna said.

Just fine, Jenna thought—and possibly living in the mansion next door to Kenmore Middle School? Although she couldn’t say that—not until she could prove it. And how would she prove it anyway?  It wasn’t as if she could walk over there and knock on the door and ask to talk to her Mom, was it? They’d probably think she was crazy and kick her out—she was almost certain of it.

‘What if I am crazy?’

Grandma squeezed her hands. “Yes, she is absolutely fine,” she told her. “And I promise, she’ll do everything she can to be here for your birthday. Okay?”

Her birthday—with everything else Jenna had almost forgotten. She tried to smile. “Okay.” 

“Good.”  Grandma released her hands and turned off the water in the sink, retrieving the colander and placing the lettuce and tomatoes in a bowl. “What do you want for your birthday? You haven’t said.”

“Probably clothes, I guess,”  Jenna said. “Some jewelry, maybe.” An idea suddenly hit her.  “Oh, and there was this book—this great book that I heard about.”

“Books make excellent presents—I’ve always said that,” Grandma replied as she tossed the salad. “What was the title of the book?”

The title. “Oh—I can’t remember,” Jenna said. “I heard a book report about it in school but I can’t remember the title.”

“What’s it about?”  Grandma asked. “Maybe I can help.”

“It’s about this girl—around my age, I guess—and she finds out that her parents are living a—” what was the phrase “—a double life.” 

“A double life how?” 

“Well her Dad has strange secret meetings with people,” Jenna added. “And her Mom is supposed to be working and out of town but she’s living in a mansion and being driven in a limo.”

“I see,” Grandma said. “And both of these things are going on at the same time, right?” Jenna nodded. “That sounds a little farfetched to me, Jenna.”

“It does,” Jenna replied. “But my friend said the book was really interesting.”

Grandma poured the noodles and seasoning into the now-boiling water. “I thought you said it was a book report.”

“It was—um—it was a friend’s book report.”

“I’ll ask in bookstores and see if I can find it,” Grandma said. “I have actually heard stories of people leading double lives—did you know that there was this airline pilot who actually had two separate wives and two different families?”

“Really?” Jenna asked incredulously.

“Really, Grandma replied. “And no one even knew until after he was dead.”

“How did he hide it for so long?”

“Well, he was a pilot—they lived in different parts of the country—so it was probably pretty easy for him to cheat. Jenna, do you want croutons or bacon bits on this salad?”

“Both?” 

Grandma raised her eyebrows. “Two condiments? That would be all right.”

“Here, I’ll do it.” Jenna grabbed the crouton packet and the container of bacon bits out of the cabinet.  She put them in the salad, using the tongs to toss the salad—at the moment, however—her mind was on anything but.

To cheat, Jenna mused. Somehow she’d never thought of that, not even after she’d seen her mother—what she thought was her mother.

Could that be it?  Could her Mom be having some sort of affair?  And lying to Dad about it?  The thought made her feel sick to her stomach.

No—fiercely Jenna pushed that thought to the back of her mind. She knew her parents—Mom and Dad loved each other way too much to do a thing like that. And Mom living a double life as what? A girlfriend to a millionaire?   No, that didn’t even make sense. Something else was going on here—it just had to be.

And it was up to her to find out what.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

IFF

5:35 PM

“One microdot, Billy.”  Lee said. “That’s all he could give me.”

“Most of the info on the dot seems to be in code,” Billy told him. “We’ve got cryptology on it and we’ll see what we’re working with so far. Any idea when he’ll be able to come across with the rest?”

Lee shook his head. “Sometime later this week—he claimed he was being ‘watched’ and he couldn’t be more specific.” 

Billy looked at the agent closely. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

Lee sighed, running one hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’m not sure—but with all these evasions—these ‘surprise’ meetings—I’m really starting to wonder what his game is.”

“Any thoughts on how to proceed?”

“I think we keep going on as we have,”  Lee said. “At least for now. He still could come through with the rest of this information and I don’t want to risk spooking him.” 

“Good idea. Keep me posted—let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

“He hasn’t tried to approach you again while Jenna’s around, has he?”

“No—and he better not or I’ll make him regret it.”

“Speaking of Jenna, how is my goddaughter?  She must be looking forward to her birthday.”

Lee’s voice was low. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Billy repeated. “Is something wrong?”  

“Well, that’s the problem,” Lee admitted.  “I don’t really know. She’s just been acting weird lately.”

“Weird how?” 

“It’s hard to say—she’s just been kind of—moody these days.”

Billy grinned. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Scarecrow, but all teenage girls are moody.”

There it was—that word again.  “She’s almost a teenager,” Lee said.  “Barely.” 

“Right, barely.”  Billy’s smile widened—if Lee didn’t know better he’d swear the man was positively enjoying this. “But trust me—moodiness comes with the territory. They can be on cloud nine one minute and crying hysterically the next.”

Just great—that was he had to look forward to? Not to mention—boys, makeup, the thought of Jenna driving—boys—again Lee raked his fingers back through his hair.

“Trust me.” Billy clapped his hand on Lee’s shoulder. “Jeannie and I went through this three times with our girls. You, Amanda and Jenna will get through this just fine, I promise you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Lee struggled to put his feelings into words.  “But I don’t know—this seemed like it was more than just a mood.”

“More how?”

“I’m not really sure.” As he spoke Lee’s mind went back to earlier—the drive home: 

As they pulled up to the stoplight shifted he cast a glance at his daughter, noting the way she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her shoulders practically up around her ears. Briefly she caught his eye and turned to stare out the window, studiously avoiding his gaze—her teeth gnawing nervously on her bottom lip.

“So—anything you want to talk about?” 

Her reply was soft—barely audible. “Not really.”

He decided to press on.  “How was your day?”

“Good.” 

Long silence—not a normal silence—you could practically cut through the tension with a knife.

“You want to play some music, munchkin?”  He asked her. “Maybe the Barenaked whatevers?” He used the wrong name on purpose, trying to goad her into a response.

But instead of correcting him—instead of rolling her eyes or saying “Da-ad” the way she did when she thought he was being annoying-- Jenna had turned to look at him, dark eyes guarded—a brief, almost perfunctory smile gracing her lips before it was gone. 

“No thanks, Dad. I’m fine— really.”

“She told me she was fine.” Lee said.

“You didn’t believe her.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lee shook his head.  “No, I didn’t. I know my daughter, Billy. And when I picked her up at school she was staring off into space—like she didn’t even see me at first.”

“What do you mean—some sort of flashback?” 

“I don’t think so,” Lee thought back. “No—you know what? It was almost like she’d seen something—something that really bothered her. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.”

Billy fell silent for a moment. “You don’t know that for certain.”

Lee laughed shortly.  “I don’t know anything for certain.” 

“It could’ve been a class, a homework problem—even something someone said,” Billy told him. “I know that things like that might seem trivial to you and me, but to someone Jenna’s age they can be crucial.”

“But she could talk to me about it,” Lee said.  “She’s usually confided in me before.” Or Amanda—he added silently. If only she was here right now—she’d know how to deal with this.

“All I can tell you is that there are some things that girls find difficult to talk about—especially with their Dads.” Billy paused, looking at him. “I’m just wondering if there must be something else behind this.”

“Like what?” 

Billy sat down beside him. “After the trauma Jenna went through and the PTSD after I think maybe you got used to watching her closely—scrutinizing her behavior.”

“Billy, I had to,” Lee said. “We didn’t know what was going trigger an episode—what was going to happen next—”

“Of course you had to—you had to be vigilant for Jenna’s sake,” Billy said. “But you know it’s over—and I think that you might be having a little trouble adjusting to that.”

“You mean that I’m imagining things?”

“Not imagining things,” Billy replied. “If you say she was upset I’m sure she was. I just wonder if you’re not making this a bigger deal than it actually is—a mountain out of a molehill, so to speak.”

A mountain out of a molehill. Lee did tend to overreact—he knew that. Could he be making a teenage mood swing into something bigger than it was? It was possible. Then he thought back to Jenna—so distant, and quiet—

He could only hope that Billy was right.

TBC 

Keeping Secrets--Part Three 

4247 Maplewood Dr 

Tuesday, January 22, 2002 

8:10 AM 

Where were they? 

Jenna looked down at the pile on the floor—underwear, socks, undershirts—nightshirts—absolutely nothing. Where could they be?  She blew out her breath in a frustrated whoosh. Her bangs flew up and then settled back down—into her eyes—impatiently she brushed them back and out of her face.

“Great,” Jenna muttered to herself. “Just fantastic.” Of all the days for this to happen—

“Just what is this supposed to be?” 

Grandma’s voice. Jenna turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

“I was—um—just looking for something,” she explained lamely. 

Grandma’s eyebrows lifted. “Looking for something in the middle of this chaos?”

“Well it didn’t start out as chaos,” Jenna indicated the piles on the floor. “I was just going through my drawers and I wasn’t finding what I wanted, and you know how you dump out your purse when you want to find something in there?”

“I see,” Grandma nodded. “So you thought you’d dump all your clothes out on the floor to look through them.”

“Pretty much.”  Said out loud it actually did sound like a very silly idea. 

“Can I ask what it was you were looking for?” 

“Some pantyhose.”  Jenna indicated her lavender shirt and denim skirt. “It’s picture day at school.”

“Picture day this late in the year?”

“Well it’s usually in September but this last September was kind of—” Jenna let the sentence hang and watched as Grandma’s eyes widened in comprehension.

“Believe me, I understand,” she told Jenna.  “But darling, couldn’t you have gotten all of this together last night?”

Jenna felt heat rising in her cheeks. “I could’ve, but I forgot,” she confessed. “Lisa called my cell phone and reminded me.”  She bent down to scoop the clothes up.  “Just let me straighten this up and I’ll—”

“No way missy,” Grandma swooped in and snatched the clothes from her grasp.  “These are not going back into your drawers after you’ve dumped them out on this carpet. I’ll wash these today, and then when you come home you can put them back neatly and straighten out this room a little. All right?” 

“But Grandma, I want to—”

Grandma held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear any more. Now you need to leave before too long—if you still need pantyhose look in your Mother’s drawer—I’m willing to bet she has a few pairs. All right?”

“All right,” Jenna repeated. “I’m sorry—about all this.”

“Don’t worry about it now, Jenna—just get ready before your father has a conniption fit.”

“Okay.”  Jenna looked down at her watch. 8:17—Grandma was right.  She went down the hallway to Mom and Dad’s room. The door was closed. Was someone in there? 

“Dad?”  she knocked on the door, not wanting to intrude. “Dad?” Another tap—nothing.  The sound of the TV downstairs registered in Jenna’s brain—that must be where he was. Slowly she pushed open the door—the hinges squeaked slightly—Mom kept saying that she was going to fix that with WD-40.  The room was empty.

Mom’s drawer was the second drawer. Jenna opened it—there were several pairs of pantyhose—a couple still in packages. She picked one of those—a pair that said ‘nude’ because she always thought that suntan looked weird when you didn’t actually have a tan. These would work perfectly—and she could put them on in the bathroom.  Carefully she shut the drawer. 

That was when she noticed the first drawer—still slightly ajar. Dad must have forgotten to close it all the way, Jenna thought. She took the brass handle in her hand, ready to push it closed—

‘Why don’t you look in the drawer?’ a little voice asked.  ‘See what’s in there?’

No, she couldn’t—it wouldn’t be right—besides there wouldn’t be anything in there anyway—just socks, underwear and ties. Boring stuff.

‘You won’t know, will you? Not until you check. So why don’t you just look—just for a second?’

One second wouldn’t hurt. 

Jenna pulled open the drawer.

Just like she thought.  There were some boxers—mostly blue ones—a stack of ties, belts— a neatly folded stack of white t-shirts. Mom must have folded those, she thought—Dad wasn’t much of a folder.

What else? Not much of anything, really.  Jenna spotted an orange box way in the back—marked Trojan—she’d seen those in the drugstore in the mall—if those were what she thought they were she just didn’t want to know. 

‘All that snooping for nothing.’

That was when Jenna spotted something—something else near the back—it was light brown—what could that be?  She reached back there—her fingers encountering smooth leather. Another belt? But it was shaped weird. Carefully she pulled it out. Some kind of harness thing—buckles and things just like a belt—it looked adjustable—and it had a pocket for carrying something—a pocket that snapped open and shut.

It looked familiar somehow.  Jenna held it up and that was when it hit her—she’d seen people wearing this on cop shows on TV. It was a shoulder holster. 

But what would Dad be doing with one?  Sure, he had a gun, but this kind of thing was for someone who wore guns on a regular basis—who used them.

“Okay, Johnston—put her down!”

That click, the same click Jenna had heard when Gary had thumbed back the safety on his gun—only Dad’s click had meant safety—her safety, because he’d saved her life that night.

But what had he been doing with a gun in the first place? And what was he doing with a holster?

“Munchkin?” 

Oh crap—Jenna could hear his footsteps in the hall—if Dad caught her with this she didn’t know how she would explain it. Hurriedly Jenna tossed the thing back in the drawer and slammed it shut.

“Coming, Dad—”Jenna fought to keep her voice normal. “I’m just—I’m changing into pantyhose.”

“Oh—okay.  We need to be going soon, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“I’ll be waiting downstairs, munchkin.” 

Jenna listened as he went back the hallway and downstairs.  She sank down onto the bed, closing her eyes, taking deep breaths to compose herself. 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Kenmore Middle School 

1:30  PM

Number seven on her list.  Jenna wrote down the number 7 and then drew a horizontal line through the seven the way her Math teacher always did. She wasn’t sure why her teacher did that exactly—but Jenna had always liked it—she thought it looked fancier somehow.

7. Dad has a shoulder holster for carrying his weapon—I found it in his drawer.

So what did that mean, exactly? Did it mean anything at all?  Dad had a gun—that was no big secret—she’d known that a long time ago.

Why would Dad need a shoulder holster? She wrote that down and underlined it.

To carry his weapon, of course. After all, if Jenna thought it was uncomfortable to carry a cell phone in her pocket, imagine what a gun would feel like. A holster would probably be more comfortable if you had to carry it.

But that was the whole thing. Why would Dad have to carry it? He was a filmmaker, a director.  Why would he need to carry a weapon on a regular basis? Lisa’s dad had a gun too—Lisa told Jenna that he kept it in a locked cabinet in his bedroom. He certainly didn’t carry it around with him in a holster—most ordinary people didn’t. 

Cops did things like that, though—they needed to carry their guns with them because it was a part of their jobs.

And Dad’s job—

What about Dad’s job? He wasn’t a cop—Jenna was pretty sure of that at least. She’d seen where he worked and it definitely was not a police station. It was a film company—it said that on the front of the building. 

He made films. That’s what he did.

‘Are you really so sure?’  A nagging voice inside her whispered. ‘Have you ever heard Dad talk about his work?  When was the last time you actually saw a movie that he made?’

Well there was the earthworm movie they showed in school—back in third grade—Jenna remembered the pride she’d felt at seeing the name ‘Lee Stetson’ in the credits. Her dad—even if it wasn’t the most fascinating movie she’d been so proud of him.

But there hadn’t been any movies since then, had there?  Not ones that she’d seen anyway. Jenna found that her mind kept going back to cops. Dad didn’t talk a lot about moviemaking, that was for sure. On the other hand though, he seemed to know quite a bit about courts, about trials—cross-examinations, appeals—things that most people didn’t know about. And while Mr. Dutton had been very concerned and worried about her testimony, he never seemed worried about her Dad—or her Mom either, for that matter.

Of course that could’ve had something to do with the fact that they were adults and she was a child—and a child with PTSD to boot.

But even so—

Dad had told her that he knew about this stuff because he’d had experience testifying in breach-of-contract cases with the film company.

Had he been telling the truth about that?

At the time Jenna had believed him. Now—

“I’ve dealt with tougher men than Baylor.”  That was what he said at the courthouse. When had he?

A lot of little things, Jenna mused. Small things—the way that he acted—that he reacted to things. It all just seemed—different, somehow.

‘Different how?’ 

Up at the front of the class Ms. Pace droned on—writing something on the blackboard. Jenna knew that she should probably be paying attention and taking notes, but her mind kept going back to the list.

Things that were different. Like what things?

How about the one time when they’d come home from the store to find the front door partly open. Jenna had only been six at the time but the memory was still pretty clear:

“But Daddy I want to go in with you—please?”

“Not now, munchkin. I want you to stay in the car while Daddy checks this out, okay? And keep your head down.” 

“But—” 

“No!” the sudden harshness of his voice had surprised and frightened her—Jenna’s eyes had filled with tears and he’d enfolded her in a hug. She could smell his leather jacket against her cheek, her tears soaking the material.

“I just want you to be safe, munchkin,” he’d told her. “So please—just stay here and stay down. I’ll be right out. I promise.” 

“Okay.”  She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Good girl.” he’d kissed her forehead and left her in the car. Jenna had kept her head down but she could still see a little—the way he’d approached the house, this sort of sideways walk.

That had all turned out okay, of course, Jenna remembered. It had just been Grandma and Captain Curt and they had simply forgotten to shut the front door. But Dad had been afraid, worried that it was something else—she’d seen it in his eyes….

Or the time with that weird preacher guy who had grabbed her outside the community center and wouldn’t let go, even when she stomped on his foot—Dad had done some sort of karate chop on his arm, making him let her go…

So many things—so many little, random things that when put together added up to—what?  That was the problem, Jena mused—she really didn’t know. All of the stuff on this list and nothing substantial—nothing to prove anything beyond just a feeling—a sense that more was going on—more than she knew about.

“Jenna?”  Ms. Pace’s voice startled her.  Hastily Jenna slammed her notebook shut, looking up at the teacher standing beside her.

“I hope those were class notes,” the teacher said.

“It was—they were.”  Someone—probably Terri—snickered. A warm flush rose up through Jenna’s neck into her cheeks.  If the English teacher noticed her discomfort she gave no sign.

“Well that’s very good, Jenna—that must have been why you didn’t hear me calling your name.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Pace.” 

The teacher smiled kindly. “Well that’s all right. I was wondering if you could answer the question I have on the board about The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

The Scarlet Pimpernel—oh gosh—she was supposed to have started reading that on Sunday and hadn’t even made it past the first chapter. Jenna’s heart thudded in her ears as she looked up at the chalkboard.

‘Why did Sir Percy Blakeney feel that he needed to maintain his secret identity as The Scarlet Pimpernel?  Why didn’t he tell Marguerite?’

Marguerite. That was the name of Percy’s wife, wasn’t it?  So at least she wasn’t totally clueless.  Everyone in the class was silent, looking at her—waiting.

“Well,”  she cleared her throat. “He was—um—rescuing people from the guillotine in France—if anyone had found out, he probably would’ve been in trouble.”

“Very true,” Ms. Pace nodded approvingly. “He would’ve been in trouble with Robespierre and with Chauvelin as well.  What about the second part of the question?”

The second part. “Well if Marguerite found out she could give him away,” Jenna replied. “That would put him in danger—and it probably would put her in danger too.” 

“That is certainly a good point,” Ms. Pace contended. “But let’s not forget—there’s also the fact that he didn’t completely trust her because he thought that she’d betrayed St. Cyr and sent him and his entire family to the guillotine out of spite.” 

“That’s true too.” 

“Very good answer, Jenna.”  The teacher patted her on the shoulder.  “And now we should move on to some of the other themes—”

A secret identity. Jenna stared at the blackboard, her thoughts racing wildly. Was that what dad had?  A public identity as a plain old filmmaker and then a secret identity as—what? Something requiring the use of the gun? An undercover policeman of some kind?  Or something else—maybe even higher than a policeman? 

No. Jenna shook her head reflexively. Lisa was right—it was all just a product of her wild imagination—her trouble with accepting normality.

But all the stuff on her list—all the things that didn’t add up—

It was impossible. Because if Dad had a secret identity that would mean that Mom did too, because she worked with him.

‘Is that so hard to believe?’ the little voice asked her. ‘You already think she’s leading a double life in the mansion next door.’  Jenna had made a point of checking out the mansion when they’d driven up to school and that same limo had been there, just like it had been on Monday.

If that had been Mom—if Mom was in that house, what was she doing there?  Was she undercover?

And if Mom and Dad had secret identities, then logically that would mean that Francine did as well, because she was Dad’s boss, and Billy too, because he was the head of the film company, along with Beaman— even Leatherneck. And that would mean that the whole film company was—what? Just some sort of a front for something else? Jenna remembered that book she’d seen back in the cabin on twenty-first century weaponry—the book with notes penciled in the margins. Dad had snatched the book from her hands and when Jenna had come out of her room after unpacking the book was nowhere to be found. 

Dad really hadn’t wanted her to see it. Why? Because it would give something away, maybe? Something they didn’t want her to find out about?

This was insane—she was imagining things—she was crazy for even thinking this way. The bell rang and Jenna gathered up her things to go to the next class.

There had to be a way to investigate this—to find out once and for all what was actually going on.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

3:40 PM 

“Have a good day?” Dad asked Jenna as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Had it been a good day? Jenna honestly didn’t know how to answer. Most of the day she’d spent on automatic pilot—her head too full of thoughts to do too much else—things she couldn’t talk about—not with Lisa or Christy—certainly not with Dad.  But he was looking at her now, she realized—he’d expect some sort of answer.

“It was all right,” she managed finally.

“How did picture day go?”

“You know—they line you up, take your photo—that’s basically it.”

“Sounds almost like a mug shot or something.”

“No, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.”

Mug shot—ordinarily Jenna might’ve just found that funny—but now she wondered. Why did he use that word? Did he have personal experience in that field or was it just a funny comparison?

‘I have to stop this—to relax—I can’t start seeing shadows everywhere.’ 

But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing?  After all, the first thing she’d done after leaving the school building was check out the mansion next door. The limo was still parked in the drive—the same place it had been that morning. No one going in or out—not that she could see, anyway. And certainly no Mom—if that had been her Mom to start with.

Seeing shadows—and everything that had seemed so innocent had suddenly taken on another meaning. She glanced over at dad—at his profile—graying hair—eyes watching the road intently as he steered the ‘Vette towards home. Nice eyes—that’s what everyone said. Her dad was nice, she knew that—and he loved her—protected her.

Just a regular guy, though—wasn’t he?  Or was he hiding something from her?  And if he was, what was it?

What was everybody hiding?

“So, munchkin—what do you want to do for your birthday?”

Of all the questions he could’ve asked— “I guess I haven’t really thought much about it.” Jenna confessed. “What could I do?”

“Anything you want—well, within reason, obviously.”

“So no amusement park at the house, right?”

Lame joke, but Dad still grinned. “Right. But whatever we do, we should start planning it soon.”

That was true—there really wasn’t a whole lot of time left.  “Do you think that maybe I could have a slumber party?”

“A slumber party?”  They were stopped at a light now—Dad turned to look at her. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” 

Was she sure? Jenna could hear the unspoken anxiety behind that question—she knew what he was thinking. She had wanted a slumber party for her twelfth birthday too—and they had planned it—she and Mom and Grandma—everything down to the last detail.

But then life—and Gary Johnston—turned out to have other ideas—and Jenna had spent her actual birthday in a hospital, hooked up to machines. Just thinking about it—about him, his cold eyes—the way his hands had felt on her skin—Jenna shivered slightly—wrapping her arms around herself.

That was then, though—it was in the past—and this was now. Determinedly Jenna pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Gary Johnston was gone—hopefully for good—and she didn’t want to dwell on the past—not anymore.

“Yeah, I would like to do that,” she told him. She wanted to make new birthday memories now—happy ones. “A slumber party would be fun.”

“Even though you probably won’t slumbering, right?”

Jenna sighed. “Da-ad.”

“Okay, okay. If a slumber party is what you want we can do that. How many girls are we talking about here? Less than twenty, I hope.”

“Probably just six girls—or maybe seven.”

“That sounds reasonable. What else do we need to do for this?” 

“Well we’ll need—um—pizza, some sodas and snacks—paper plates and cups—and some streamers and balloons,” Jenna replied. “Oh, and Mom usually makes a cake of course.”

At the mention of Mom, Dad’s hands suddenly tightened on the wheel—he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Right, of course.”

“Mom will be home then—won’t she?” Dad didn’t say anything at first.  “Won’t she?”

“Jenna—”

“You said she’d be back this week.”

“She’s going to do her best, munchkin.” 

”So she might not be back this week? Is that what you’re saying?”

Dad turned onto Maplewood. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” a little voice was warning her to drop this—just let it go, but for some reason Jenna persisted.

“I’m saying that your Mom would never want to miss your birthday,” Dad said. “Never. But sometimes things come up—things she might not be able to help. And you’re old enough to realize that.”

Old enough. Sure, she was supposed to be old enough to understand these things—to ‘be grown up’ about things—but not old enough for makeup—to choose her own shirts and jeans—

Or to know what was really going on.

“So what kind of things might come up?”  Jenna asked. 

Another sigh. “I really—I don’t know.”

“Do you know where Mom is?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“Would you?”

He looked at her sharply as they turned into the drive. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Jenna replied. “It’s nothing, really.” 

‘Except I keep getting the feeling that there’s something you’re not telling me—something that no one’s telling me.’ But she couldn’t say that out loud—not yet.

Dad just stared at her. For a minute he looked like he might say something—then his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the number. 

“Just one minute.”  He told her, flipping the phone open. “Stetson here.”  A long silence—Jenna saw his hand clench, a knot forming in his jaw.  “No, no—” he looked over at Jenna. “Het is lastig. Vaarwel.”

That same strange language again—the one he’d been talking with that man. Dad closed his cell phone.

“Who was that?” Jenna asked.

“Business—it was film business, that’s all. Nothing very exciting.”

Did she believe him?   Was it really film business? Or some other kind of business? He’d looked angry just now—the same way he’d looked when he’d met that man in Kohl’s. Somehow she didn’t think that filmmaking would get him that upset.

“Okay,” Jenna said finally, not meeting his eyes. “We should probably go in—I’ve got stuff to do and I want to finish my homework before dinner.”

“Hey,” Dad’s arms suddenly enfolded her in a hug.  “If I know your Mom, she’s going to move hell and high water to get here for your birthday. All right?”

Jenna tried to smile. “All right,” she repeated. Dad kissed her forehead.

“Good.”  He said, obviously relieved. “Let’s get inside, huh? Get out of the cold.”

‘I have to find out,’ Jenna thought. Because if dad thought she was just going to let this go—as she followed him up the front walk her mind was already busy, formulating a plan.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr.

4:30 PM

What in the world…?

Lee stood there, tie in hand, staring down in confusion at the mess of his drawer. Correction—what had once been his drawer. T-shirts and boxers in lay together in a rumpled disarray—like someone had rifled through them—or simply shoved the once neatly-folded stacks aside. But why? He wondered. For what purpose? 

Looking for something, maybe?  Looking for what?

“I swear, I never want to see another stack of laundry again,” Dotty said as she came into the bedroom, laundry basket in hand. She sat on the edge of the bed, putting the basket on the floor beside her.  “I must have done about eleven loads today.”

“Why so many?” Lee asked.

“Your daughter,” Dotty replied. “She decided it would be best to look through her clothes by dumping them on her floor.”

Lee grinned—that definitely sounded like something Jenna would do. “Did she find what she was looking for?”  He asked.

“Not in her room, no. I sent her in here to find some pantyhose—Amanda usually keeps some in her drawer.”

“Oh yeah.” Lee remembered now. He stared down at the mess of his drawer, his mind racing. Could Jenna have—?

He had to know for sure.

“Dotty?” He said aloud.

“Hmm?”  His mother-in-law’s eyes were closed now, fingertips rubbing at the center of her forehead.

“You didn’t—um—you didn’t go looking through my drawer, by any chance?”

“No,” Dotty’s eyes opened. “Although I was planning on putting your things away in a moment. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Lee said quickly. “Look, why don’t I put everything away?”

“You sure?” Dotty asked.

“Sure—it’s no trouble at all.”

Dotty smiled as she rose from the bed. “Bless you, Lee—dinner will be ready in about an hour and half.”

After Dotty left, Lee stood there, staring down at his drawer—running his hand back through his hair.

Jenna and Dotty—the only other people in the household. And if Dotty hadn’t looked through his drawer, then it must have been—

“I’m just—I’m changing into pantyhose.” That was what she’d told him. Had there been a touch of furtiveness in her voice or had he just imagined it?

She knew which drawer was her mother’s, Lee thought. So why on earth would she ever—?

At that moment his eyes fell on the box of Trojans—the box that sat just behind his spare shoulder holster. It had been tipped over on its side, packets spilling out. He picked up a packet, looking at it—

‘She wouldn’t—she couldn’t have possibly—’ The very thought caused a giant lump to rise in his throat.

‘Couldn’t she?  She’s been moody recently—you thought something was wrong.’

‘Not this—she’s too young, she’s still a little girl and barely a—’

‘You can’t even think the word, can you, Stetson?’

Teenager. Lee stared down at the orange foil packet he held in his hand before coming to a decision.

He had to know for sure.  Placing the packet back in the drawer he went down the hallway to Jenna’s room. His daughter lay on her bed on her stomach, feet in the air—her face a mask of concentration as she wrote in her notebook.

“Munchkin?”

At the sound of his voice she startled visibly, shutting her notebook and putting it under her pillow.

“Oh—hey Dad.”

“Hey yourself.” He sat down next to her on the edge of her bed. “You busy?”

“Just homework—that’s all. I put my clothes away and now I’m trying to finish this before dinner.”

“Good idea,” Lee told her. And for a moment he just stared at her—straight, dark blond hair which now fell past her shoulders, hair which Jenna habitually tucked behind her ears—large dark eyes—expressive eyes—so much like her mother’s.  Growing up—he could still see the child in her along with the woman she would be in only a few years.

Growing up so fast—Lee thought back to his drawer—to the condom packets. The lump in his throat seemed to grow even larger.

‘Please don’t let her grow up too fast.’

“Dad, did you want something?”  Jenna asked.

“Not really,” Lee replied.  “I just thought that maybe we should have a little talk—you know, just between the two of us.”

For a moment a strange expression flitted over Jenna’s face—so quickly that Lee almost wondered if he’d imagined it.

“Sure,” Jenna said. “What would you like to talk about?”

Deep breath in and out—Lee fought to keep his voice as calm as possible.

“You went looking in my drawer in my bedroom, didn’t you?”

A slight flush rose up in his daughter’s face.  “Well—yeah, I did this morning.”

“And you saw something in there?” Lee prompted. “You found something?” Jenna didn’t reply. She looked away from him and stared fixedly down at her hands. Lee placed a finger gently under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his own.

“Hey—whatever you found,” he told her. “It’s okay, we can—” Christ, how he wished Amanda was here right now. She was much better at this than he was. “We can talk about it. Really.”

A long silence. “We can?” Jenna asked. “Really?”

“Sure—we can talk about anything you want.”

“Okay,” Jenna began.  “I guess—the whole thing just surprised me—that’s all. I didn’t expect to see it.”

It was a surprise—meaning that she probably didn’t have a lot of experience or knowledge in the subject. Maybe she’d just been curious—that was probably natural. The lump in his throat loosened slightly.  “Do you have any questions?” 

“Not really,” Jenna replied. “I mean, I know you use one for protection but you have to admit it was a weird thing to find.”

“It’s really not that weird, munchkin.” Lee said.

“Well it was to me. I just didn’t realize that you carried it on you like that.”

On him like that? That was a strange choice of words.  “Well, I do sometimes—I use it when I need it.”

“Really? What do you use it for?”

He had to answer her—be simple, honest and direct, that’s what Amanda had told him when Jenna was four. In his mind’s eye Lee could see his wife, arms crossed, standing over him.

“Stetson, did you honestly tell our daughter that she came from a cabbage patch?”

“I didn’t know what else to say,” he’d told her—and at the time he hadn’t.  How did you tell a four-year-old where babies came from? 

Of course Amanda had made him go back to Jenna and explain—tell her the truth. Lee could recall the way he’d held her in his lap, her dark eyes looking quizzically into his—pretty much the way they were right now.

“Munchkin—daddy has something to tell you.”

“It’s pretty much like you said,” he told her. “I carry it for protection.”

“Is it really that dangerous?” Jenna asked.

“Well—it can be sometimes,” Lee explained. “And—um,” he loosened the top button on his collar. “That’s why you use one—just to be careful.”

“Okay. I still don’t understand, though—” Jenna said. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? I’m old enough. Did you think I was going to do something?”

God forbid, Lee thought.  Out loud he said. “You know—your Mother and I are married—we love each other very much and it’s really—”

“Dad—”

“Listen to me, Jenna,” Lee held up his hand. “Just listen because I know, okay?  I know how nice boys can seem—I used be one. But believe me—it’s best when if you wait until—” his voice broke off—Jenna stared at him as if he’d just flown in from Mars.

“What is it?”  He asked her.

“What does marriage have to do with it?”

“That’s what I was trying to explain.”

“But I wasn’t asking about marriage. I just wanted to know why you carry that.”

Not asking about marriage—Lee was beginning to get the feeling they were talking about two completely different things.  “Why I carry what?” he asked his daughter. “What are you talking about?”

“Well what are you talking about?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

Jenna shook her head.

“I was talking about protection,” Lee began. “You know the kind you use when people—”

“Oh Dad, yuck—” Jenna’s face was as red as a beet.  “Please—I don’t want to talk about that—that’s way too embarrassing.”

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you—I was just—”

But Jenna had her hands over her ears.

“Darling?”  Dotty stood in Jenna’s doorway. “I was wondering if you could help me set the table.” 

“Sure,” Jenna practically leapt to her feet, not looking at him. “I’m coming right now—bye Dad.” 

It wasn’t until she’d gone downstairs that Lee realized—she’d never told him why she’d been searching in his drawer in the first place.

Keeping Secrets--Part Four

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Wednesday, January 23, 2002 

5:15 PM 

Investigate.

Looking down at what she’d written, Jenna let out a sigh.

It was all very well to say that she should investigate—to talk about investigating. In real life, though—it was another matter entirely. She was only twelve years old—almost thirteen, Jenna reminded herself. Not that the extra year made that much difference. She still couldn’t drive, couldn’t work apart from occasionally babysitting which meant no real money. Investigators—real investigators—followed people around.  How was she supposed to do that? Jenna wondered.  Follow after people on her bike?  Call a cab or stowaway in the trunk of the ‘Vette?  None of these ideas were practical—in fact, they were downright silly. Jenna let out her breath in a hiss of frustration.

This wasn’t working out at all.

There must be something there, though—just had to be. Something else she could do—something that maybe she’d overlooked.

Like what?

In the Scarlet Pimpernel Marguerite had discovered Percy’s secret identity by searching his study. That was where she’d found the ring, bearing the seal of the Pimpernel.

But Jenna was never going to search Mom and Dad’s room again—not ever. Her own attempt at a search had only found a gun holster and won her a conversation with her Dad that she definitely didn’t want to repeat. She knew that her parents had done—that—obviously they had or else she wouldn’t be here. But Dad trying to talk to her about it—Jenna cringed inside at the thought, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks.

‘Maybe there’s nothing to investigate,’ the little voice in her head whispered. ‘This could still be your imagination working overtime. ‘

Then Jenna looked down at her list. All the things that were strange—that didn’t fit.

‘No,’  she told herself firmly.  ‘There’s something there—I know it.’ She had almost three pages now—it wasn’t three pages of imagination. It just couldn’t be.

Except she’d never be able to prove it—never be able to find out what all this stuff actually meant.

Still no Mom at the mansion next to the school today—though she had spotted the chauffer this morning before school. He had been outside, talking on his cell phone.  Jenna had been too far away to hear what he was saying but from the way he’d strode back and forth, clutching the phone tightly in one hand and gesturing with the other she’d gathered he wasn’t very happy.  Jenna had managed to watch him until the bell rang and she’d had to rush to class.

She really wished her cell phone had a camera—

“Jenna, look at these.” Grandma swept into the room—hastily Jenna stuffed the notebook under a pillow, sitting up.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to sound normal –casual.

“I picked up these party invitations at Hallmark,” Grandma handed her the packet, still wrapped in plastic.  “Thought they looked just the thing for a teenage slumber party.” 

Jenna looked down at them—the large purple letters which announced  ‘Party’—set  against a pink background dotted with multicolored stars.

“Those are really pretty, Grandma,” she said. “Very cool—thank you.”

Grandma smiled. “Well, after all—if you’re going to invite your friends, you might as well invite them in style, right?”

“Right,” Jenna repeated. “We’ll invite them in style.”

“Once we set the exact time and date you can write these out,” Grandma told her. “In the meantime I should get back to dinner—and let you get back to your diary.”

Her diary— what diary? For a few seconds Jenna stared blankly at her before comprehension dawned. She must mean the notebook. “Yeah,” Jenna said. “I should get back to my—um—my diary.”

“You know, your mother was just like that at your age—always scribbling down something into her notebook about her friends, her dates—all kinds of things.”

If only the things she wrote about were that normal, Jenna thought. Out loud she said. “It’s good to write things down.”

Grandma patted her shoulder. “Very true, darling. Dinner will be ready in an about an hour.”

Jenna smiled. “Okay.” Once Grandma had left she slid the notebook out from under the pillow.

“—just don’t know, Billy.” 

Dad’s voice—coming from below her window—talking to Billy—question was, what were they talking about?

‘Only one way to find out,’ Jenna’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she carefully slid open her window just a crack—she didn’t want Dad to look up and see.  Looking straight down she could make out the top of his head—the cell phone in his hand.

“I have another meeting with him Saturday,” Dad was saying.  “Yeah, I know it was supposed to be earlier—hopefully Groesbeck’s a bit more forthcoming this time.”

Groesbeck?  Jenna wondered if that was the man she’d seen in the mall—the white/blond man.  What was he supposed to be more forthcoming about?”

Suddenly Dad looked up –almost right at her—oh gosh—Jenna crouched on the floor, keeping her head down and hoping he didn’t see her or hear how fast her heart was beating. After a few moments she mustered the courage to look out again.  Dad was still there—he must not have seen her or he’d have been up here like a shot. She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“No—no I still don’t know what his game is,” Dad replied.  “Still going to play along—never know what he could lead us to.” A brief pause. “No, I told you—backup might spook him.”

Backup?  Cops called for backup—she knew that. Cops—and who else? Jenna was going to have to remember all this to write down—she didn’t want to grab her notebook right now and risk attracting attention.  

“Oh, and Billy, speaking of backup have you heard from—” More silence. Dad ran his hand back through his hair. “No—yeah, I know.”  Even from up here Jenna could hear the worry in his voice.  “Tell Francine to let me know when you do hear, huh? Bye.”

Billy—and Francine. Jenna’s hands trembled as she closed her window. So they were a part of it.  Just like she’d thought earlier.  And Mom—maybe Grandma—though picturing Grandma leading some kind of double life—

‘But why would that be stranger than anything else?’ she added silently. ‘Why would that be stranger than Mom?’ The thought of Mom living life as some kind of a socialite was just—Jenna couldn’t think of words to describe just how strange it was.   And the film company—it had to be part of this too— whatever ‘this’ was. And Dad’s next meeting was on Saturday.

If only there was a way that she could go too…

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Lee pocketed his phone with a sigh. Still no word from Amanda—he knew how zero contact operations worked—he’d  worked a few himself in the past.   And Amanda could handle himself—Lee knew that. Still, not knowing how she was, not being able to see her, talk to her, to touch her—it was making him crazy.   He couldn’t wait till she came home, when he could take her in his arms—hold her body close to his, his lips bending down to meet hers—

A soft thump from above caused Lee to look up. What had—his eyes focused on Jenna’s room. For one split second he could’ve sworn that he saw something—a shadow—some movement behind the patterned lace curtains?   But before he could focus on it the shadow had disappeared.

Had the shadow been Jenna? He wondered. Was she watching him? Eavesdropping on his conversation? For one brief moment  Lee considered confronting her, asking her directly. But no—that would be a bad move.  If she hadn’t been she’d be indignant that he’d accuse her of such a thing and if she had—either way there would be a barrage of questions from her—questions he wasn’t prepared or willing to answer right now.

When had this happened? When had everything he said suddenly become the wrong thing?  And when had his sweet trusting daughter been replaced by this girl who constantly questioned him?  This girl who skulked around—went searching through his drawer looking for God only knew what—he was pretty sure  it hadn’t been a condom because of the look of utter mortification  on her face when he’d tried to approach the subject.

‘Pretty sure,’  the little voice in his head reminded him.  ‘That doesn’t mean you’re completely sure, does it?’

And he wasn’t, Lee thought. He wasn’t completely sure about anything. How could he be? One moment Jenna was upbeat and happy—the next moment brooding and quiet—watching him out of the corner of her eye— in a split second her mood could change. Overhead a bird squawked repeatedly—if he didn’t know any better he’d swear the thing was laughing.

‘Welcome to teenage life, Stetson,’ it seemed to be telling him.

If he ever needed Amanda, he needed her now.

Thursday, January 24, 2002 

8:25 AM 

“Got everything?”  Dad asked as she climbed into the ‘Vette.

Jenna nodded. “Everything I need—books, homework—lunch money—”

“Good to know.”

Silence. Jenna tried to think of something to say—anything to fill the silence—anything but the myriad of questions that filled her head.

‘What do you really do? Just what are you and Mom hiding from me? What’s everyone hiding?’ 

Questions she couldn’t ask him, not just yet—not until she had a lot more to go on. The meeting on Saturday would probably answer a lot of the questions—the only problem being that she still couldn’t figure out how she would be able to be there.

‘Have to stop dwelling on this,’ she thought. The best solutions usually came when you weren’t thinking at all. Jenna thought of turning on the radio—dad always grumbled and grumped about her music—her ‘noise’ as he called it—but he was usually smiling when he did it—it was Jenna’s opinion that he actually enjoyed some of it.

This morning, though—she really wasn’t in a music mood.

“How are your classes going?” Dad asked her.

“They’re going fine,” Jenna replied. “I like my teachers—and my classes are fun.”

“That’s good to know, munchkin.” 

“We’re reading the Scarlet Pimpernel in English,” she told him. “Have you ever read that book?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s a cool book.” Jenna watched him closely as she spoke. “About a guy named Sir Percy Blakeney who pretends to be kind of a frivolous person—he acts like he’s not very smart, but really he has a secret identity.”

Dad’s expression didn’t even change—no reaction at all. If the subject matter had any effect on him, Jenna thought— he certainly didn’t show it.  “What kind of secret identity?” he asked her.

“As The Scarlet Pimpernel—he’s rescues people from the guillotine.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It is—he has people after him like this guy named Chauvelin—oh and then his wife finds out what he really does—she spies on him.”  They had pulled up to a stop sign and Dad glanced over at her.

“What next?” he asked. 

“Well then she has to rescue him before he gets caught,” Jenna said.  “I haven’t read the whole thing yet so I don’t know if it turns out okay.” 

“I’m sure it does—in books like that the hero always wins.”  More silence—Dad pulled into the car line.

“Other than classes, how is everything else going?”

“Okay—I mean—everyone’s pretty nice—” they were drawing close to the mansion—the limo still parked in the front.  Jenna stared at it fixedly.

“Everyone?” Dad prompted.

“Well, almost everyone.” Jenna replied. “Terri can still be kind of mean but it’s not too bad.” 

“What do you mean, she can still be kind of mean?”

The door to the mansion suddenly opened—Jenna sucked in her breath as Mom—the dark-haired woman who looked like Mom, stepped out onto the porch. She was wearing an elegant –looking cream-colored suit. A cream-colored suit in the morning?  At home Mom usually wore shirts and jeans. But not here, apparently.  If it was Mom and not someone else.

For a brief moment the woman’s gaze turned towards them and Jenna froze. Did she see them? Could she see the car? She thought her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.   Before she could do or say anything more the woman turned and went back inside.

“Jenna!”  Dad was staring at her now, his eyes concerned. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

She hadn’t—she hadn’t heard him at all.  “I’m sorry,” she replied.  “My mind just wandered for a second, that’s all.”

“Wandered? Wandered how?”

“Just wandered—Dad it’s no big deal.”

“Why do you keep staring at that house next door?”  Dad asked.

“Staring at the house next door?”  Jenna repeated.

“Yeah. Come to think of it you’ve been doing that for a couple of days now. “

He’d noticed—she didn’t know that he had noticed.  But he hadn’t seen her, Jenna realized—the woman who looked like Mom. “I just was always curious about it, that’s all,” she said. “Don’t you ever wonder who lives there?” 

“Someone with a lot of money, munchkin,” Dad told her. “Now what was that you were you saying about Terri being kind of mean?”

“Well she’s not nice,” Jenna said.  “She’s never nice to me—she glares and says stuff, but at least she’s not going out of her way to pick on me right now.”

“You’ll let the principal or someone else know if she does, right?”  Dad asked.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“That’s good.” They pulled to stop in front of the school.

“Well I should go before I’m late,”   Jenna said. She turned to leave when Dad turned towards her, taking her hand in his.

“You know that you can talk to me too, right?”  He said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I mean it, Jenna. You can talk about anything you want—school, friend, clothes—even, you know—boys.” He said the word ‘boys’ like they were some kind of dread disease. For a minute Jenna held her breath, sure he was going to mention the stuff in the drawer again—

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Dad continued—Jenna let out a sigh of relief. “Is that I want you to feel free to talk to me — and whatever you have to say, I promise I’ll understand.”

‘I don’t know—I don’t know if you’d understand this,’ Jenna thought. “I know that,” she said out loud. “Really, I do.”

The words he wanted to hear, she knew. Dad smiled—he pulled her into a hug. “Love you, munchkin.” 

“I love you too, Dad.” 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

‘Did she see me?  Oh my gosh—’

Legs trembling, Amanda sank down into a nearby chair in the foyer.  She breathed deeply, in and out, fighting for composure.

“Are you all right, Ms. Greenwich?”

Amanda looked up into the face of the butler, Hans. “I’m fine,” she said. “Really—I just had a moment.”

“If there’s anything you need—a glass of water, perhaps?”

“No thank you—I don’t need anything.” 

He inclined his head slightly. “As you wish, ma’am.  Oh, and one more thing. The master, Mr. De Vrees  would like to meet with you in his study as soon as you’re able.”

“Thank you,” Amanda said.  “Please let him know that I’ll be there directly.” The butler nodded again and left.  

Jenna.

It really shouldn’t have come as such a shock, she thought to herself. Jenna’s school was right next door, after all—she had known that before she’d taken the assignment. At the time it had actually been a comforting thought, knowing that she would still be near her child.  But seeing that car at that exact moment had been—

Maybe she was worrying over nothing.  Chances were that Jenna hadn’t seen her—that she still didn’t know what was going on.

But she could’ve, Amanda reminded herself. It was possible. And if she had what might be going through her daughter’s mind? Dressed like this Amanda hardly resembled the mother that Jenna was used to seeing. The same mom who went to PTA meetings and made brownies for her bake sales, who stayed up nights sewing Halloween costumes—baking Birthday cakes—

Birthday cakes—Jenna’s birthday was only six days away—she had to be there—the first birthday since the kidnapping. This time last year she’d been so frightened, wondering if she’d ever see her youngest child alive again, and now—

“I want to make good memories, Mom,”  Jenna had said.  “I want this birthday to be happy.”

“Sweetheart, it will be, I promise. We’ll make it the best.”

The best—Amanda still wanted that—but she couldn’t do much stuck in this house while Jenna—

If Jenna saw her she would recognize her—of that she was absolutely sure. She would see her and she’d just know—the same way that Amanda would’ve known her own mother at that age, even in disguise.

So maybe she hadn’t seen her—maybe.  But if she had—

‘I’m not even there to explain any of this to her—’ Lee was there, of course, but sometimes his attempts at explanation could be a little—awkward—at times, especially where Jenna was concerned.

“Daddy—why do you look that way?” A then four-year-old Jenna had stared at Lee as if he were a stranger—taking in his dirty attire, his fake beard and disheveled appearance—she’d pressed closer to Amanda, her hands clutching her mother’s leg.

For a moment Lee had been at a loss for words—Amanda had seen the panic in his eyes. He couldn’t tell her the truth, of course—that he was going undercover to nab a double agent—

“It’s for –um—it’s for a movie, Jenna,” he’d said finally.

“What movie?”

“A movie about—” Lee hesitated.  “About homeless—homeless animals  Stray cats and dogs—animals that don’t have a home.”

“No home?”  Jenna had asked—her voice doubtful.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Amanda had quickly jumped in.  “Daddy’s just in a costume for this movie.” 

“Right see? It’s just a costume—look.” At that point Lee had stepped closer, dropping to one knee. Jenna drew back at first but finally stepped forward, reaching out a tiny hand to touch his fake beard.

“It feels funny,” she’d said critically. “I like you with no beard.”

Lee had laughed then—pulling her into a hug. “Yeah, I like me with no beard too, munchkin.”

But Jenna wasn’t four anymore, and explanations that had worked then weren’t going to fly. Already she was starting to notice things—to ask questions that they wouldn’t be able to put off forever—

“She’s still too young.”

“She’s nearly thirteen, Lee—almost a teenager, remember?”  At the mention of that word Lee had tensed, running his hand back through his hair. Amanda had continued. “She’s going to want to know the truth—she deserves to know.”

“Amanda, she’s been through a lot this last year—a hell of a lot. Why do we need to add to the trauma she’s already experienced?”

Would it necessarily have to be traumatic? Amanda wondered. It would be a surprise, of course, but one she thought that Jenna would be able to cope with if they handled it right—if they sat her down— if they both talked to her and calmly explained—

The soft chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway brought Amanda hurtling back to the present. The sooner she wrapped up this case, the sooner she’d be able to be home with her family. Rising to her feet, she made her way down the oak-paneled corridor to De Vrees’ study.

“Ahh—Ms. Greenwich,” Mr. De Vrees smiled.  He had been seated behind his desk; he rose as she entered the room.  “I trust you’ve had a pleasant morning?”

“Very pleasant, thank you.”

“And have you met my associate, Mr. Caspar Groesbeck? “  De Vrees gestured towards the blond man who stood beside him.  “Mr. Groesbeck, allow me to present Ms. Victoria Greenwich.”

Mr. Groesbeck took her hand. “A pleasure, Ms. Greenwich,” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Amanda replied.  For just a moment a strange look flitted across his face—was it fear?  The look was gone as quickly as it had come, however—and Mr. Groesbeck stepped back.

“Ms. Greenwich is considering funding our little enterprise,” De Vrees said.

“That is correct,” Amanda said.  “At this time, though I’m afraid I know very little about the details of this –enterprise. “

“Well luckily, that’s what we’re here to rectify.”  De Vrees gestured to a nearby chair. “If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll  tell you exactly what we have in mind.”

SMK  SMK SMK SMK

Saturday, January 26, 2002 

9:30 AM 

“Absolutely not,” Dad replied.  “It’s out of the question.”

“But Dad, we have to.”  Jenna followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen.  “This is our only chance.” 

“Jenna, your slumber party is this next Friday,” Dad told her. “You can’t tell me that this is the only—we can get stuff later in the week.”

“When? You’re busy all week—and I have school.”

Dad sighed.  “Your Mom can—”

“Mom can when?”  Jenna crossed her arms as she faced him. “When will Mom be back?  Do you even know?”

“Jenna—” Dad’s voice rose slightly. “I’m warning you.” 

She was pushing it—she knew that—and the frustration in her Dad’s expression spoke volumes.  Despite that Jenna couldn’t seem to stop—she had to be there—had to find a way to see that meeting if she could.

‘I need to know what’s happening—what’s really going on.’ 

“You know this is the best time to go shopping.” She made her tone as wheedling as possible and put on her best pleading face.  “Dad, please.” 

“Munchkin—the thing is, I’ve got some errands to run this morning—you don’t want to be along for boring old errands.”

“But Dad—”

“Listen—you stay here with your Grandmother this morning, okay? Then later on in the afternoon I’ll come back and take you shopping. How does that sound, huh?” 

Terrible, Jenna thought—her heart sinking down to her knees. This wasn’t going to work—she was going to be stuck in this boring house while Dad went out—

“Jenna can’t stay here with me, Lee,” Grandma came downstairs. “Captain Curt and I are spending the day together—we planned this two weeks ago.”

“Can’t you reschedule?” Dad asked her. 

Grandma raised her eyebrows. “Reschedule the Washington Golf and Country Club?”  

“No—no of course you can’t.” The expression on Dad’s face was positively frantic—he looked from Grandma to Jenna and back again. “Couldn’t Jenna go with you?” 

“Dad—I don’t play golf.”

“Well you could learn, couldn’t you?  You’d have fun there.”

“No, I wouldn’t have fun,” Jenna said. “I said I don’t want to go there—” Dad shushed her.

“Of course she can go,” Grandma said. 

“Then it’s settled,” Dad told her.

She couldn’t win—no matter what Jenna did she was stuck—

“In fact,” Grandma added, “there’s a young man that I think you’d like to meet.”  

“Wait a minute. A young man?” Dad may have looked frantic before; now he looked like his eyes might bulge out of his head.

“A very nice young man,” Grandma told him.  “He’s a nephew of Captain Curt’s –his name is Pierce.”

“Pierce?”   Dad repeated.

Grandma nodded. “Pierce Andrew Curt. He’s only fifteen years old but very mature for his age.”

“Fifteen?”  Dad was beginning to sound like a parrot.

Jenna’s eyes met Grandma’s. 

‘Play along.’  She seemed to be telling her silently.

“Pierce sounds nice,” Jenna said. “Is he—um—is he cute?” 

“He’s very nice looking,” Grandma’s smile widened.  “He even has a learner’s—”

“That’s okay,” Dad said quickly. “Jenna’s coming with me, aren’t you? We’re going birthday shopping.”

“That’s right—I’m going with him.”

“Shame,” Grandma patted Jenna on the shoulder. “Maybe next time. You two have a nice day, all right?”

“We will,” Jenna said.

 TBC

Keeping Secrets--Part Five

Party City Superstore

Saturday, January 26, 2002 

11:00 AM 

“Okay, here we are at last—birthday supplies,” Dad announced.  Jenna followed him, pushing the cart into the aisle.  

“I never realized how many holidays there were until we came here,” Jenna followed him, pushing the cart into the aisle. “Do you think that anybody actually has a Groundhog Day party?”

“Well if they don’t, there’s a whole lot of stuff going to waste.” Dad said.  “Okay—this part looks like the teen section—you see anything you like?”

Jenna looked where he was pointing. There seemed to be an awful lot of ‘Sweet Sixteen’ stuff—a sea of pink and white—but she wasn’t sixteen—at least not yet.  If Dad got all stressed out over thirteen how would he feel when she was old enough to drive?  She looked up at him, his gaze fastened intently on the shelves. 

“Dad, thanks.”  She told him.

He glanced down at her. “What for?”

“You know.  For doing this—this shopping stuff.”  Jenna hesitated. “I know I kind of railroaded you into it.” 

“Hey—you didn’t railroad me into anything, munchkin,” Dad said.  “I’m having fun.” 

“Really?”

“Really.  So what do you think of these here? They’re kind of cute.”  Dad pointed to the lavender paper plates which read ‘Look Who’s 13’ in bright pink letters.

Jenna nodded. “They do look cool.”

“That they do,” Dad replied.  “And look—we can get matching napkins, cups, a centerpiece, streamers, balloons—even hats—” Jenna made a face.  “What is it?” he asked.

“I’m not so sure about hats—do you think they’d be kind of baby?”

“Personally, I don’t think so, munchkin—but it’s really up to you.”

Up to her—Jenna hesitated, looking at the hats. She did have to admit that they were cute like Dad said—and they did have glitter on them.  And besides that she’d had hats at every other birthday party—part of her really didn’t want to give up the tradition just yet.

“I think—I think we’ll get some hats,” she said.  “I like them, and if someone doesn’t want to wear them they don’t have to.”

“Good call,” Dad agreed. Together they placed the things in the cart. “Okay—what else do we need?”

“Well we don’t need pizza because we order that—”

“Just tell me what we do need.”

“There’s chips and dip,” Jenna began, thinking aloud. “Only not sour cream and onion because Tamara’s allergic to onions and not clam dip because Lisa swells up if she eats shellfish.  And maybe Cheetos because Christy likes them but then she might eat them all but hopefully she won’t and then there’s soda of course—” her voice broke off when she saw Dad’s grin. “What is it?”

“Nothing—it’s just sometimes you’re an awful lot like your Mom sometimes,” Dad ruffled her hair. “What about a cake?”

“Mom said she was going to make me a chocolate peppermint cake with homemade peppermint icing,” Jenna watched her Dad closely as she spoke—noting the way he tensed as soon as she mentioned Mom in conjunction with her birthday party.  “But if she’s not back in time—”

“Jenna, I promise—she’s going to do everything she can to be back in time.”

“You said that it’s possible, though—it’s possible that she won’t be.” 

One hand back through his hair, as always—his eyes refused to meet hers. “I know what I said, but your Mom will do everything possible—”

Everything possible—he kept saying that, but still there were no phone calls—apart from the ones with Billy and the weird one in that language—no postcards  from Mom—nothing.  Just the woman next to the school who might or might not be—

“She’s okay, though—isn’t she?” The words were out of Jenna’s mouth before she’d even had time to think them through. Dad stared at her in amazement.

“What??”

“You would tell me, wouldn’t you?” Jenna asked. “I mean, if Mom was in some sort of horrible accident or if she you know—ran off or something you’d let me know, right? You wouldn’t just lead me on?”

“Listen to me. If anything like that had happened you would know,” Dad said. “I would never hide something like that from you. Ever.”

‘But you are hiding things,’ Jenna thought, looking at him. ‘Aren’t you? You’ve been hiding things from me, other things—’ How was she supposed to know what was true and what wasn’t? Nothing was what it seemed to be—she just didn’t know anymore

“Your Mom is fine,” Dad continued. “I don’t know when she’ll be back from this assignment but I can tell you that she’s all right. Nothing bad has happened.”

She believed him—wanted to believe him—she really did. 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I know you’d tell me.  I guess I just miss her, that’s all.”

“I know you do.” 

“I get frustrated— not being able to talk to her.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” Dad replied, hugging her briefly.  “Listen, why don’t we get a cake mix?  That way we’ll have it just in case.”

“That sounds good. Can we get a lemon cake mix with chocolate icing?”

“Chocolate and lemon?” Dad sounded doubtful.

“Yeah, I think they would taste good together.”

“Well if that’s what you want, munchkin—that’s what we’ll get, once we find the cake section. But Jenna—about earlier—”

“What about earlier?” 

“You’re not really interested in meeting fifteen-year old boys, are you?” 

“No.”  Jenna watched a relieved smile spread over her father’s face.  “Well—not yet. Maybe someday, though—if they’re cute.”

Dad’s smile faded. 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

1:30 PM 

“So do you understand what I’m saying now?” 

“That boys can’t always be trusted, especially if they’re older than me.” 

“That’s right—”

“And that older boys who like younger girls don’t always like them for themselves—they like them for other reasons?” Dad wouldn’t tell her what the other reasons were, exactly, but Jenna had a rough idea.

Red crept up past Dad’s shirt collar. “Basically, yes.” 

“And that if a boy really likes me he’ll listen to me and respect me, right?” Jenna said. “Dad, it’s really okay— Mom already talked about this with me.” 

“She did?”  Dad asked. Jenna nodded. “Well—that’s good then. But like I said before, I used to be a boy, so I know—” 

“Dad—where are we?”   

The ‘Vette had pulled into a narrow side street—almost an alleyway. To Jenna the place looked completely deserted. Garbage littered the cracked and broken sidewalks and most of the windows had black iron bars on them. Dad pulled up next to a place that would’ve read ‘Randy’s Pool Hall’ if not for the missing ‘n’ in Randy.

“What are we doing here?”  Jenna asked. This couldn’t possibly be where the meeting—

‘I asked to come along.’  Her heart thudded dully against her ribcage. Just what had she gotten herself into? She looked at Dad—his knuckles almost white as they clutched the steering wheel—she could see that knot in his jaw.

“Dad?” 

“Jenna—I have a little errand to run,” Dad said.  “I’ll only be a few minutes—in the meantime I want you to stay in the car and keep your head down, okay?” 

Just like the time when she was six.  “But Dad, I want to—”

“I’m serious. This isn’t a good neighborhood. Promise?”

“Yeah.” Dad squeezed her hand and got out of the car. Jenna kept her head down—she heard the door shut and then the little beep that told her he’d locked the doors. Lifting her head slightly she watched him walk through the pool hall door. Had he taken something out of his jacket?  Jenna thought that maybe he had but from this vantage point she couldn’t really make it out.

What was going on?  

‘I’m never going to find out if I stay in the car,’ she thought.

On the other hand, getting out was taking an awfully big risk. Dad hadn’t been kidding her when he’d said that—it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was not a good part of town.

‘But I want to know what’s going on—I need to—”

After another moment’s hesitation Jenna unlocked the door and climbed out. There was one window in front of the pool hall—bars in front of it, of course. Peering through the bars and through the grimy-looking glass she could just about make out Dad and the man—the same man who had been in Kohl’s –the white/blond man. That must be the one Dad called Groesbeck—had to be. It was too far away to tell what they were saying this time but Jenna watched as Groesbeck pulled some kind of envelope out of his jacket and handed it to Dad. 

“Hey there,” 

The voice startled her. Jenna whirled around to see a man, wearing some sort of camouflage jacket and carrying a bottle. He smiled as he stumbled towards her, revealing yellowed teeth.  

“How’re you?” He drawled—even from here she could smell his breath—his unwashed clothes—even the tips of his fingers were stained black. Jenna swallowed hard—the odor making her stomach churn. 

“Fine,” she managed to say, backing away as much as she could—she could feel the cold metal of the bars through her clothing.  

“Sure look it, sweetie,”  the man laughed when he said that—as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard—a laugh that degenerated into a violent hacking cough. “You wouldn’t have a dollar or two, would ‘ya?”

“No, she wouldn’t.”  Dad’s voice.  Oh gosh—she hadn’t even heard him approach. He stood beside her now, one hand resting protectively against Jenna’s back—his other hand on her elbow.  

“Sorry, mister,” the man said. “Just askin’”

“We’ll be going now,” Dad said.

“Yeah, well—see you later.” Jenna watched as the man disappeared down the street—then she looked up at Dad.

“You see,” she started to explain. “What actually happened was—”

“Save it. Just get in the car, Jenna,” Dad’s voice sounded calm, but she could hear the anger there.  “Right now. You and I are going to have a long talk.” 

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“You all right?”  Dad asked as she got back into the car.

“I’m okay.” Jenna managed to fasten her seatbelt, surprised by how badly her hands were shaking.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah—a little bit.”

“I turned on the heater—it should warm up soon.” 

Dad put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. Safe now, was safe—Jenna focused on controlling her breathing—gradually her heartbeat began to settle into a normal rhythm.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” Dad asked.

“No,” Jenna shook her head. “Nothing like that. He just talked.”

“Just talked.” Dad repeated. “What a comforting thought. Jenna did I or didn’t I tell you to stay in the car?”

Jenna paused. She couldn’t tell him what she’d really been doing—what she’d seen—that man giving Dad the envelope. Couldn’t confront him with this, not until she knew what she was talking about—until she had more to go on. Questions hung in the air, felt but unspoken.

What were we doing there in the first place? Who is that man? And what was in that envelope? 

“You did tell me to stay,” She replied. “But I—”

“But you what? You what, huh?” Dad’s voice rose. “I told you very clearly and you just thought you’d disobey me for what—just for the hell of it?”

“Dad, I—”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? How stupid? ”

Stupid. Jenna’s face burned—she looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them in her lap.

“Answer me,” Dad said. “Just tell me—give me some idea of what was going through that hard head of yours, because right now I don’t know.”

“He just—” she fumbled for the right words. “All he did was ask me if I had money. I didn’t think—”

“That’s just the point. You didn’t think—you didn’t think at all.”

“I know that—”

“No you don’t, Jenna.” They pulled up to a light—she could feel his eyes on her—each word felt like a missile  as it hit—Jenna kept her eyes wide, trying to stop her tears from escaping. “You don’t know what that guy was thinking—what he might have been planning to do. If I hadn’t been there God only knows what might have happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?  You’re sorry? You would be sorry if something had happened to you—but by then it would be too late.”

“By then it will be too late.” In her head Jenna could hear Gary’s voice saying those words—his cold eyes as he’d leveled the gun at her, pulling the trigger—

Around this same time last year—

‘No, no—I won’t think it—I won’t.’  She closed her eyes, trying to breathe, to fight the feelings welling up inside.

“Munchkin,” Dad touched her shoulder. “Look at me.”

Jenna opened her eyes. They had stopped, she realized—at the Kroger’s parking lot. She looked over at Dad. “What are we doing here?”

“I didn’t think we should have this talk while driving.” Dad hesitated.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but what you did just now was very dangerous. I just hope you realize that.”

“I do. But I really didn’t mean—” Dad held up his hand, silencing her.

“Let me finish, all right?  We were in a very rough part of town. And I’m glad that nothing worse happened, but you need to understand that when I tell you to do something it’s only because I love you and I want you to be safe. Do you understand?”

“I do understand.”

“Do you?” He shook his head.  “I swear, sometimes you’re just like your—”

“Just like my what?”

“Never mind.”  He took her hands. “Jenna, listen. This time last year I didn’t know where you were, who had taken you—and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again. That’s not an experience I want to repeat. Ever.”

Jenna’s voice was small—she could see the pain in her Dad’s eyes—how badly she’d frightened him.  It made her feel bad—she never wanted to hurt him. “I don’t want to repeat it either. I’m sorry. “

“Well it was my fault too, munchkin—I never should’ve taken you to a place like that—but there was something I needed to do. So I’m sorry too.”

“What did you need to do there?” she asked.

“That’s—it’s kind of a long story.”

“Was it film business?”

“It was—” Dad let out his breath in a long sigh. “It was related. That’s really all I can say.” 

Related how?  What kind of ‘film business’ could you do in a pool hall anyway?

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”  Dad asked. “About what you were doing—getting out of the car like that?”

For a moment Jenna really wanted to tell him—to talk to him—she opened her mouth—

“No,” she told him finally. “There’s nothing to tell.”  An unreadable expression flitted across Dad’s face—for a minute Jenna thought he was going to push the issue—to say something else, but he simply squeezed her hands and kissed her forehead.

“Okay,” he said. “Listen, as long as we’re here, why don’t we pick up some ice cream, huh?  We’re going to need some for the party.”

“Rainbow sherbet? And chocolate peanut butter—that’s Lisa’s favorite.” 

“Whatever you want, munchkin.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

Lee glanced over at his daughter as she held the freezer door open, lips pursed, dark eyes methodically scanning the rows of ice cream.

Did he believe her?  Was this nothing more than teenage moodiness and rebellion—simple growing pains?   At first he had thought maybe it was—only now—

Jenna let out a sigh. “Oh this is impossible.” 

“What’s impossible?”

“I can’t find the chocolate peanut butter—not anywhere. What am I going to do?” 

It was unbelievable. She was worried about chocolate peanut butter ice cream—when only a half-hour ago he’d found her in front of the pool hall—cowering against the wall—cornered by some wino—

‘If I hadn’t been out there in time—’ Lee recalled the fear that had coursed through him when he’d glanced out through the window to see Jenna flattened up against the bars. Bidding a hasty farewell to Groesbeck he’d stuffed the packet into his jacket pocket and run out there—

“Isn’t there another flavor that Lisa would like?”  He asked her.

“Let me think—oh, here—” Standing up on tiptoe, Jenna grabbed the container. “Rocky road. Lisa likes that too.” 

“Maybe you should get more than one, though. You don’t want to run out.”

“Good idea.” 

Nothing to tell.

Was she being honest with him? The more Lee thought about it, the less sure he was. But if she was lying to him what was the truth?  And what had she been thinking, getting out of the car?

‘I told her it was dangerous—I ordered her to stay put.’

Like that had ever worked, he thought drily. God knows, it had never worked with Amanda. And Jenna was her mother’s child in so many ways—barely a teenager but with her mother’s inability to stay put—her curiosity—her need to know what was going on—

Had Jenna witnessed the meeting with Groesbeck?  And if she had, how much had she seen?  He’d told her it was film business but from watching her face he could tell that she wasn’t entirely convinced.

It had been so easy when she was young—when she pretty much believed whatever he told her. But now—

“Someday we’ll have to tell her.” Amanda’s words rang in his ears.  Lee had always pictured ‘someday’ as being in the far future. When she was sixteen, maybe—maybe even seventeen. 

Certainly not now. Not after all she’d already been through this last year—it would just be overwhelming.

“Dad, are you going to tell me?” Jenna’s voice broke into his reverie.

“Tell you what, munchkin?” Lee fought to keep his voice as calm as possible.

“Whether I should get mint chocolate chip too?” 

“I—” Relief overwhelmed him—and for a moment he just stared at the canister in her hand, his mind completely blank. “I think with rocky road and sherbet that would probably be overkill.”

“You’re right—I think we’re good with these four.”

“Yeah, you’ll all have so much sugar in you that you’ll never go to sleep,” he teased.

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Da-ad, honestly.”

“Only saying,” Lee replied.  “Do you need anything else?” She shook her head. “Well in that case we’re good to go.” He followed Jenna as she wheeled the cart up to the checkout line.

“I hope that weird lady isn’t doing checkout today,” Jenna said.

The sudden change in subject threw him completely—he stared at his daughter. “What weird lady?”

“You know,” Jenna said. “The one last month who dropped all our cans that one time and handed one of the cans back to you with a piece of paper wrapped around it?”

“Yeah—that was definitely weird.”

“I’ve never seen her though, not after that day—maybe she got fired.”

“Maybe,” Lee agreed, his mind racing. The information that contact had passed on had helped to unmask an unscrupulous arms dealer.  At the time he hadn’t thought that Jenna had noticed the paper though—he thought that he’d pocketed it pretty quickly.

What else had she noticed? What other things had she seen?

“Someday we’ll have to tell her.”

Lee had a sinking feeling that the moment would come soon.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Sunday, January 27, 2002

IFF 

1:30 PM

“Looks like he came through this time,” Billy said.

“Yeah--took him long enough,” Lee replied.

“Better late than never,” Billy told him. “We should know more once we run it through cryptology of course. It does look as though some of the information may be from Amanda.”

“With any luck it’ll be something that helps to bust this ring wide open.”

“Let’s hope so. Did Groesbeck say anything?” 

“Well,” Lee hesitated. “To be honest, didn’t have much of a chance to talk. I saw Jenna outside and I—”

“Wait a minute—Jenna was there?”

Lee nodded. “We were shopping for birthday party supplies—it really couldn’t be helped.”

“Couldn’t you have done that at another time?”

“Well, Dotty was going somewhere for the day and she wanted to go. I couldn’t leave her at home by herself.”

“Understood. Did Jenna get into any trouble?” 

“Just a little run-in with a wino,” Lee replied, running his hand back through his hair. “To be honest I think she was probably more startled than frightened. She was supposed to stay in the car, Billy.”

“But she didn’t.” Billy grinned. “That sounds oddly familiar. But at least the meeting went well.”

“Yeah.” Lee fell silent, staring down at the carpet.

“Something else on your mind, Scarecrow?” Billy prompted the agent.

“Not really—just that everything with Jenna seems to be up and down these days,” Lee said. “Half the time I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I know you’re going to say that’s typical, but I just have a feeling.”

“What kind of a feeling?”

“That something else is going on with her—something more than just being a teenager.”

Billy’s face darkened. “Something bad? Dangerous?” 

“No—” Lee let out his breath in a whoosh. “Nothing like that.  At least I don’t think so. But there’s something—something I’m missing.”

“It could be very innocent,” Billy said. “A fight with a friend, trouble with a teacher—even boy troubles.”

Boy troubles. Lee shuddered inwardly—God forbid. He sat down on the sofa. “I don’t know—right know all I have are suspicions—I don’t know anything for certain. You know it wasn’t all that long ago that she came to me with these things—confided in me. Now—she’s just so secretive all of a sudden.”

“She’s getting older, Lee—she wants her privacy—she’s pulling away and I know that can hurt.” Billy looked at him closely as he spoke. “But I have a feeling that if you’re patient she’ll come to you eventually.”

Come to him eventually—how long would that take? For the thousandth time he wished Amanda were here—if he could only talk to her—she’d know exactly what to do. “I hope so,” Lee said out loud.

“She will, trust me,” Billy replied. “And keep me posted—I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, Billy.” 

Tuesday, January 29, 2002

Kenmore Middle School

11:45 AM

“So?” Lisa said. “What do you think of him? Is he cute or what?” 

Jenna looked down at the photo that Lisa had handed her— the boy she saw was tanned and very blond, with bright blue eyes and a slightly crooked smile. “What’s his name again?” 

“Germy,” Christy grinned, biting into her apple.

“No,” Lisa elbowed Christy. “It’s Jeremy. Jeremy McCormick. Don’t you think he’s good looking?”

“He is very nice looking,” Jenna agreed.

“Nice looking?” Lisa repeated incredulously. “Jenna—he’s hot. He looks like Jonathan—”

“—Taylor Thomas,” Jenna and Christy chorused together. A flush rose up in Lisa’s cheeks. 

“We haven’t forgotten your obsession with Jonathan—” Jenna said.

“Not Jonathan,” Christy teased. “It’s JTT, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right, JTT,” Jenna said. “Remember how you had posters of him all over the place? You even wrote him a love letter.”

“So? You wrote one to Zac Hanson,” Lisa reminded her. 

“Oh yeah—that,” Jenna winced, recalling her short-lived infatuation with the pop group Hanson. Dad had claimed that if he heard ‘Mmm…Bop’ one more time his brain was going to leak out through his ears.  “And then there’s Christy and her thing with Leo.”

“Hey! I’m still going to be Mrs. DiCaprio—one day,” Christy took a bite of her burger. “But that’s beside the point. We’re talking about Lisa and Germy—Jeremy.”

“Whatever—at least my relationship is based in reality,” Lisa retorted. Christy stuck out her tongue in response.

Jenna looked down at the photo she still held. “He’s awfully tanned.” 

“Jeremy came here from Hawaii—his dad was stationed there,” Lisa said.  “He knows how to surf and everything, isn’t that great?”

“Great, but he won’t be able to surf on the Potomac,” Christy said. “But you’re right though, Lisa. He is really cute.”

“But how are you going to have a relationship when he goes to Williamsburg Middle and you go to Kenmore?”  Jenna asked.

“Well we can still email,” Lisa replied. “And talk on the phone, and we can see each other at the mall, maybe—or the skating rink. Oh, and he bought me this rainbow ring, see?”

Jenna looked down at the painted wooden ring on her friend’s finger. “It really is pretty, Lisa.”

Lisa smiled. “Yeah, he got it at Chincoteague and dropped it off at my house—it came in a pretty box, too—I was so surprised when I opened the front door and saw it there.”

“You get to open the front door?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Lisa said. “It’s really not that strange, seriously.”

Not that strange? As far back as Jenna could remember she was never allowed to open or go to the door by herself—that was the rule. It was a safety issue—at least that’s what her parents had always told her.

“You don’t know who might be at the door, munchkin—we don’t want anything to happen to you.”  That’s what dad had said. The same rule applied to the telephone. Jenna had just always assumed that everyone’s parents had that rule too. But now—she looked at Christy.

“Christy, can you go to your front door by yourself?” she asked.

Christy nodded. “Yeah. I always have. It’s not a biggie.”

“Face it,” Lisa told her. “Not everyone’s parents are as uber-protective as yours. But on the other hand, if I’d been kidnapped my parents would probably never let me out of the house.”

“That’s true,” Jenna replied.

“Yeah, but what could be so dangerous about answering a door?” Christy said.

Christy was right, Jenna thought. What could be so dangerous? And exactly what—or who—were her parents afraid of?

‘Come on,’ she told herself. ‘Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.’

Then again, maybe it did—and when you added it up on top of everything else—the meetings, the phone calls, the woman in the mansion— the man she’d seen when she spied on Dad—it did seem awfully strange.

Spied on Dad—for some reason that phrase struck a chord. Secret meetings, different languages—the way dad had spoken to Billy on the phone—

‘Oh boy, if I wasn’t crazy before, I know I’m crazy now—’ Certifiable, because it couldn’t possibly be true—

“Jenna?” Lisa’s voice. Jenna turned towards her friend. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jenna smiled. “Sure—I guess I just zoned out for a minute—that’s all.” 

“Just don’t do that at your slumber party,” Christy said.

“No,” Lisa said. “In fact if anyone does fall asleep my sister says we have to put their underwear in the freezer.”

“Oh yeah,” Christy snorted.  “Jenna’s parents would love that.  Anyway, I’m bringing a bunch of movies and games—”

Spies. Her friend’s voices faded into the background as the thoughts cycled around Jenna’s head.

Couldn’t be true—couldn’t be true—

But what if it was?

One thing she did know—there would be an awful lot to write in her notebook later on.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr.

5:30 PM

Mom and Dad are spies.

Jenna sat on the family room sofa, staring down at what she’d just written.  She couldn’t leave it like that, a statement. Not when she didn’t know for sure.  After a brief hesitation she changed the period into a question mark—a big question mark.

But was it really? Looking at all the evidence she’d written down it actually seemed to make some sort of sense.  The strange meetings—weird things over the years—the holster, the different languages—even the way they rescued her. It all fit.

‘But then that means that Billy is a spy, and Francine is a spy, Leatherneck—even that one guy Beaman—’ Though actually she could believe Francine—she seemed like maybe she could be a glamorous spy type. And IFF would have to be a spy organization posing as a film company. But then there was Jeannie, Grandma—even Phillip and Jamie. Even Dr. Pfaff—as weird as that seemed. Who was and who wasn’t? It was the same conundrum she’d run into with the secret identity thing—if one was definitely true then logically the others could be too—just like the truth tables they were studying in math. What was that word—tautology?  She couldn’t remember.

“Jenna?” Grandma came in from the kitchen, spatula in hand.  Luckily Jenna managed to stuff the notebook under a cushion before she saw anything.

“Hey, Grandma,” she said brightly—probably a little too brightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Well I was going to ask you to set the table,” Grandma looked at her closely. “Your father will be home soon and I wanted to have dinner ready. Are you all right?”

“Sure,” Jenna replied. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Grandma said. “You seem awfully nervous to me.” 

“Nervous?  No, I’m fine.” Jenna practically jumped to her feet. “Here—let me help you with that table—we don’t want Dad to be waiting for his meal.”

“I guess we don’t,” Grandma said.  “Darling—you don’t drink coffee, do you?”

Jenna shook her head.

“Take my advice then—don’t start.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

7:00 PM

“Is the coast clear?” Lee asked, poking his head around the doorjamb.

“Yes,” Dotty said. “Jenna’s upstairs doing her homework.”

“Good,” Lee came inside, carrying two large bags. He sat down on the family room sofa, placing the bags in front of him.  “I don’t want Jenna to see her presents before Friday, except for this guy here—” he pulled out a lavender teddy bear with a purple bow around its neck. “I’m going to give this to her tomorrow morning for her actual birthday.”

“Oh Lee, that’s adorable.” Dotty came in from the kitchen, dishtowel in hand.  “What else did you get?”

“New pajamas, a robe—slippers—” Lee’s head was down as he rummaged through the bag. “Oh and this—this is the big present.” 

“What is it?” 

“An IPod.” Lee held it up, still in its plastic packaging. “I hope Jenna knows how to use it because I’m clueless.”

“Trust me, they all know how to use that stuff,” Dotty replied. “That’s an awful lot for a birthday, Lee.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lee said. “But it’s her first birthday since the kidnapping—it’s kind of special.”

“That’s true,” Dotty admitted. “Will Amanda be here for the party?”

Lee sighed.  “With any luck. I know she wants to be here—it’s just difficult right now.”

“Well if I know my daughter,” Dotty said. “She’ll do everything possible. But hopefully Jenna will understand if she can’t make it.” 

“Yeah, hopefully,” Lee grimaced as he shifted slightly in his seat. One of the cushions seemed to be off somehow—there was something—something hidden here.  He managed to work it out from underneath the cushions.

“What is that?” Dotty asked. 

“Don’t know—it’s looks like a notebook of some kind.”  Lee turned it over in his hands. Jenna’s name was on the front, written in purple ink. One of her school notebooks?  If so, what was it doing under a sofa cushion? Absently he opened the cover.

“Oh, that’s probably Jenna’s journal—she was writing in it before I called her to set the table.”

“Journal?”  Lee repeated.

“Yes—Amanda used to write in hers all the time,” Dotty said.  “Just normal teen stuff.”

Normal teen stuff—personally Lee wasn’t sure that anything to do with teens was ‘normal’. Absently he opened the cover—seeing a sea of purple ink. His daughter, he thought wryly—she could never use a normal color. The writing was a little small for him—he pulled out his reading glasses for a closer look. ‘Strange Things’ that was the heading on the first page.

1.    Dad lied about going to the restroom—met with strange man—

‘Oh my God—’  as Lee read down the page his stomach began to twist in knots—was it just him or had it suddenly become very hot in here? 

6.  Woman who looks like Mom, wearing a fancy dress and visiting a strange house—correction, strange mansion—in a limo??

That explained why Jenna had been looking at that house next door—why she’d asked him questions. She had seen Amanda—what she must have thought—he turned the page, reading all the stuff his daughter had written—pages and pages—not just recent events but things from childhood—

“Oh, and speaking of Jenna’s birthday, I still couldn’t find that book she mentioned—about the girl whose parents are leading a double life?  The man at Barnes and Noble had no idea what I was talking about. So I’ll see what else I can find for her.”

“Yeah—good idea.”  Double life, secret identity—it was all written here. Chances are there had been no book at all—just Jenna’s way of bouncing the idea off her Grandmother to see what she thought.  This explained so much—the strange behavior—everything—

‘All this time—I thought we were doing a good job of keeping this from her.’

How wrong he had been. The words blurred in front of his eyes—suddenly it seemed very hard to breathe.   The notebook totaled about five pages in all—including the Saturday meeting with Groesbeck.  And then Lee looked down, reading the last sentence. That was when his blood froze.

‘My Parents are Spies’  

After that sentence Jenna had drawn a big question mark.  So she still hadn’t been entirely sure—but nevertheless—

‘She’s too young—she’s not ready—this can’t be happening, not now.’

Except it was—

Hastily he slammed the notebook shut and stood, putting the volume in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Ahh—I just—I have a little errand to run,” he told Dotty.  “It’s not a big deal—just a little thing I forgot to do.” 

“Is everything all right?” she asked him.

“Everything’s fine—I should be back very soon,” Lee said. “Oh, and would you mind—”

“Don’t worry—I’ll put this stuff where Jenna will never find it.” 

“Thanks, Dotty—I shouldn’t be long.” 

He knew just the person he needed to talk to.

 TBC

Keeping Secrets—Part Six

IFF

7:40 PM

“Well I have to say that it’s certainly comprehensive,” Billy remarked as he closed the notebook.

“Yeah,” Lee said shortly.  “She’s certainly been very thorough, I have to give her that. Hardly missed a trick.”

“Runs in the family,” Billy replied.  “And you say that you had no idea that she was keeping this?” 

“Come on, Billy!” Lee snapped.  “If I’d had any idea I would’ve come to you long before this. I’m telling you I didn’t have a clue.”

“No clue at all? You did think that something was troubling her—you and I discussed that.”

“I knew there was something,” Lee ran both hands back through his hair as he paced up and down the length of Billy’s office. “I didn’t know it was this—not specifically.”

Not completely true—he thought, remembering the events of this last Saturday—he’d had an inkling then, hadn’t he? So why hadn’t he acted on it? He could’ve confronted Jenna then and there, questioned her— 

He hadn’t wanted to be right. Because part of him had been secretly hoping to dodge this bullet—to keep her in the dark—at least for a little while longer.

All of this was happening so fast. If only there was some way to pull back the reins a little.

“Couldn’t you at least stop pacing?”  Billy asked. “You’re going to wear holes in the carpet if you keep this up.”

“Sorry.” Lee slumped into a nearby chair. “I’m sorry—maybe if I had known I could’ve done something.”

“Something like what?”  Billy asked.  “What could you have done?”

“I don’t know—I don’t.  But something—anything to stop this from happening.”

“Like what?”  Billy sat facing his friend.  “Tell me how you could’ve stopped this from happening. You’re not in control of your daughter’s mind. You can’t stop her from wondering about things. “

“Billy, come on—that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?”  Billy asked.  Lee fell silent.  “Children are curious Lee. It’s natural. Sooner or later they’re going to start to ask the questions. It happens.” 

Sooner or later—part of Lee really wished it had been later. Maybe if Amanda has been here she could’ve run interference, stalled Jenna somehow—

Only she hadn’t been here, and no amount of wishing was going to turn back the clock and undo this.

“I’m just not sure what to do,” he told Billy. “I don’t know what I can do about this.”

“Well I think it’s obvious what you need to do.”

“No,” Lee shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not—it’s out of the question.”

“Scarecrow—”

“Jenna’s not ready for this—she isn’t. Not now.”

Billy was silent for a moment, just looking at him. “Are you sure that it’s Jenna who’s not ready for this?”

“Come on,” Lee’s voice rose. “It wasn’t all that long ago that we were dealing with PTSD, the trial—this on top of everything else—this would just be too much.”

“It doesn’t need to be—not if you approach it correctly.”

“And what is the correct approach?” Lee asked.  “Huh? My daughter has been through enough for one year—she doesn’t need any more. She doesn’t need me turning her world upside down.”

“Right now, I don’t see that we have a choice. And it doesn’t have to turn her—”

“There has to be a choice,” Lee’s fist clenched. “Any choice but this. Have you ever considered that it could be dangerous for her to know?” 

“Oh, and I suppose it’s safer for her to be sneaking around and trying to investigate without any idea of what she’s getting into?”  Billy’s tone was incredulous.  “Look, Jenna already has some idea—all you’d be doing is confirming her suspicions.  But it has to be done regardless. The last thing we want is for her to go to her friends about this.”  

“Yeah, there is that.” Billy was right, Lee knew he was right, but still— “I just hoped it would be later,” he said finally.  “You know, when she was sixteen, maybe, seventeen—”

“And if she was seventeen you’d still be in here claiming that it was too early,” Billy reminded him.  “Jenna could be thirty and you still wouldn’t be ready for this. But the fact of the matter is that children do things on their own timetable—not ours.”

Their own timetable.  Lee remembered the way he and Amanda had broken it to the boys. That had been a matter of necessity as well—Amanda had been pregnant with Jenna and it was necessary to come clean about the marriage, their jobs—everything. It hadn’t been easy, but eventually Phillip and Jamie had come round. 

But Phillip and Jamie had both been older, not his biological children and the circumstances had been vastly different—

“I don’t know how to do it Billy,” Lee said. “How am I supposed to break this to her? What do I say?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what to say,” Billy replied. “Just keep it simple, be honest and direct with her.”

Honest and direct—not what he’d done when he’d told her where babies came from—

*~~*

“Listen, munchkin—when Daddy told you that babies come from the cabbage patch—I wasn’t telling you the whole story.”

“What’s the whole story, Daddy?”

His four-year-old daughter had looked at him, trusting him so completely…

“Well, babies,” he began “They come from inside Mommies’ tummies.”

“The cabbage patch is inside Mommy’s tummy?”  Jenna’s dark eyes grew wide. Amanda had to bite her lip to stifle a giggle—Lee had shot her a warning glance.

“Not exactly,” he’d told Jenna. “There’s not really a cabbage patch in there—it’s more like a place to grow the baby until it’s ready to come out.”

“Are there seeds?” Jenna wanted to know.

Lee’s face had turned bright red at that point— “Well—ahh—”

*~~*

“Amanda should be here,” Lee told him. “She would know what to do—the right words to say.”

Billy sighed. “I’m going to kid you—it won’t be easy.  It wasn’t easy when Jeannie and I had to tell our own children.”  As he spoke Billy picked up the picture from his desk, smiling fondly as he looked down at his daughters.”But you do get through it.”

“What made you decide to tell them?”

“Our oldest, Joanne –she had started to put it together,” Billy said. “But Jeannie and I decided to tell them all at once. They were sisters, after all, and since two of them shared a bedroom it seemed to make sense.”

“And how did they react?”

“Joanne was kind of like Jenna—she already sort of suspected something was going on.  At first she was a little annoyed we hadn’t told her before, but she took it in stride.” Billy said. “Angela was kind of quiet—she just listened and didn’t say much.”

“Why was that?”

“We found out later that she was mostly frightened, you know—that something was going to happen to me.”

“Makes sense.” Lee wondered what Jenna’s reaction might be, trying to picture her face—he couldn’t even imagine.  “What about your youngest?”

“Tonya?  She was close to Jenna’s age, around thirteen at the time, maybe fourteen,” Billy smiled at the memory.  “I think she was probably more curious than anything else—she asked us a lot of questions—and I do mean a lot.” 

So there were several ways this could play out, Lee mused. How was he supposed to know what to do?  And how she would react? 

“Billy, what if this triggers a flashback or something?” He asked.

“Can you think of any reason why it should?”  Billy asked. 

“Well no, but—”

“Lee, listen,” Billy said. “I can’t tell you the perfect way to do this. But I can tell you that if you’re honest and if you’re patient with her, she’ll listen. It will be all right.” 

It will be all right, Lee thought. He could do this, he really could.

He just had to keep telling himself that.

SMK  SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr.

8:40 PM 

“Oh munchkin,” Lee sighed as he looked down at his daughter, sprawled out on her bed.  Her eyes were closed; her breathing deep and even. Sound asleep, but then of course she would be at this time of night. One arm clutched her Scarecrow doll and her feet were bare, rolled up socks nearby—as usual she’d slid them off in her sleep.

‘Just when I’d worked up the nerve.’ But as Billy had told him, this was on her timetable—not his.  Lee covered Jenna with her blanket and bent down, his lips gently brushing her forehead.

“Good night,” he whispered.

“Dad?”  Jenna murmured, her eyes opening slightly. 

“Yeah it’s me—I’m here.”

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, munchkin,” he took her hand in his. “Just go back to sleep—we’ll talk in the morning.”

“ ‘kay—love you.”

“I love you too.” 

He stood there a few moments more, holding her hand as she relaxed back into sleep.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Wednesday, January 30, 2002 

8:30 AM

The smell of bacon wafted into her nostrils. Something fuzzy brushed against her cheek. Jenna opened her eyes to see a lavender teddy bear wearing a purple bow.

“Do you like him?”  Dad stood beside her bed, tray table in hand. 

“Morning,” she told him, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.  Sunshine spilled in through her lace curtains. She reached for the bear. “Oh, I love him, Dad—he’s adorable.” 

“Happy Birthday, munchkin,” Dad smiled, sitting down beside her on the bed and placing the tray table over her lap. “I thought you’d like some breakfast in bed. Your Grandma made it for you.”

“Thank you, this looks—” Suddenly Jenna’s eyes fell on the clock by her bed. Half past eight? On Wednesday?

“Oh my gosh—Dad, why did you let me sleep this late? I’m going to be in so much troub—”

“Relax, munchkin,” Dad said. “It’s okay—I called the school and told them you’d be absent.”

“Absent?”  Jenna repeated. “Why am I absent?” he was silent, looking at her.”Dad, what’s going on? Please tell me.”

Dad drew in a deep breath and let it out.  “Well, I thought you and I should have a talk—about this.”   Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out something. It was her notebook, she realized, her stomach sinking.

“Oh no—” Jenna could feel her cheeks growing hot—she clapped both hands over her face.  “Oh Dad, I’m so sorry.” 

“Jenna—”

“I know you must think I’m crazy—but you know, there were things that were happening—things you weren’t telling me and then I saw, you know, that woman in the house next door and I couldn’t help wondering –and so then I decided to write it all down and—”

“Just listen to me,” Dad urged.

“And I know I kind of spied on you,” Jenna continued. “And I know that was wrong to do that and not tell you but I wanted to know what was going on and no one was saying, so—

“Stop.”  Dad removed her hands from her face and took them inside his own. “It’s okay. Really.”

“I’m not in trouble?”  Jenna asked.  “You’re not mad at me?”

“No, of course you’re not in trouble.”  Dad squeezed her hands.  “And I’m not mad at you, I swear. But we do need to talk about this.” 

“Okay.” More silence—he just stared at her.  “Are you going to start?” she asked him finally.

Dad smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “So you’ve been curious about what’s going on?” 

Jenna nodded.  “There were just all these things—stuff that didn’t fit, that didn’t make sense. And the more I thought about it the more weird it seemed.” It sounded lame, she knew, but with her thoughts all tangled up that was as clear as she could make it.

‘Maybe I’m dreaming this,’ she thought. But something told Jenna that this was very real.

“And you decided to write it down,” Dad prompted. “To see if it could make sense, right?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”  

“So—what’s your theory, then?”

“I wrote it down—you read the notebook right?”

“I read it.”

Breathe, Jenna reminded herself. Dad’s hands wrapped around her own felt reassuring—it gave her the strength to continue.

“Well at first I thought that maybe you were a cop—you know, when I found the holster in your drawer. I know what you thought I was looking for and I did—I did see that box, but honestly that’s not what I was looking for.” 

“I know that munchkin.  So you thought that I might be a cop?”

“At first, but then I thought about it and you don’t work in a police station. I know where you work because I’ve been there.  And then, after I saw Mom—what I thought was Mom—I came up with a different theory.”  

“The secret identity?” 

“Yeah, and that would sort of fit. The only thing is I didn’t know why you would have a secret identity—or why Mom or anyone else would.  So it made sense but it didn’t really make sense—if that makes sense?”

Dad laughed softly. “Yeah, that makes sense. And then your third theory—”

Jenna’s voice was low. “That you and Mom were spies. Believe me, I know how crazy that one sounds.” 

“What if I told you that your third theory was absolutely right?”

“Right?” Jenna stared at her Dad in shock.  “I’m right?” 

Dad nodded.

‘This must be a dream—it can’t be real.’ But it was real—very real, and Dad was looking at her, expecting her to say something.

“And you’re –you and Mom—you’re spies?”

“Actually I prefer Intelligence Operative,” Dad said. “But spy is basically the same thing.”

Jenna stared down at the tray—the breakfast in front of her—she had to keep reminding herself to breathe. Her heart felt like it was going at a zillion beats a minute.

“Hey—you okay?”  Dad’s voice was gentle, his eyes concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Really.”

He released her hands. “Why don’t you eat something before it gets cold?”

“I’m not exactly hungry.”

“Try. You need something in your stomach.” 

Something in her stomach—the food did smell awfully good. There were pancakes with syrup, hashbrowns with cheese—even bacon. All her favorite stuff.  She took a bite of the hashbrowns and then a sip of the orange juice. 

“You must have some questions.”

‘Sure, only about half a million of them.’  Out loud Jenna said.  “What about the company you work for? The film company?” 

“We do make films,” Dad said. “You know that, you’ve seen a few yourself. But our real business is espionage.”

“Spying.”  Dad nodded.  “But good spying right?”  Jenna asked. “I mean you’re the good guys—of course you are.” 

“We’re the good guys, that’s right.” 

She cut into the pancake stack with her fork and popped the pieces into her mouth. “CIA?” 

“No, we’re a little more secretive than that—we’re just called the Agency. To tell you the truth, most people don’t know that we even exist.”

“And so that means that Billy is a spy too, right?”

“Billy is the head of the Agency.” 

“What about Francine?”  

“She’s my boss—she’s the Section Chief.” 

“And Leatherneck and that guy Beaman?”  Dad nodded.  “What about Mrs. Marston?” 

“She works for us—she’s the receptionist.”

“How about Dr. Pfaff? Is he a spy?”

“No, he is a psychiatrist. But he does work for our company.” 

“That sort of makes sense now,” Jenna said.  “I always thought it was a little strange—a film company having a psychiatrist. What about Grandma? And Phillip and Jamie?”

“No, they don’t work for us, but they do know what we do.”

They knew. So not everyone she knew was a spy, but they had been keeping a secret just the same. “When did you tell them?” she asked. 

Dad drew in another breath. “Back in 1988, when we realized we were going to have you. For security reasons we’d been keeping the marriage a secret from everyone but then you came and we couldn’t hide it anymore.”

“Pretty hard to hide a pregnancy, huh?” Jenna told him. She’d seen pictures of Mom with her stomach all the way out to there—it felt so weird to think about everyone before she was even born.

“Very true.”  Dad put his arm around her and hugged her briefly against his side.

“How did they react—Phillip and Jamie, I mean?” 

“Well they were a little upset. Mostly about the marriage because we hadn’t told them, but they adjusted.”   

“You kept it secret for security reasons?  Is that the reason you kept it from me too?” 

“Yes,” Dad told her. “I hope you know that we weren’t trying to lie to you, but we wanted to give you a normal life, munchkin—and we wanted to keep you safe. We didn’t want you to ever be in danger because of our jobs.”

In danger—maybe it was her previous experience, but actually she did understand.  “That’s why you won’t let me answer the door,” she said. “Or the phone.”

“That’s true. We never know who might be there and we don’t want to risk you.”

“But what about you?” she asked. “You and Mom?”  She thought back to the scars Dad had once shown her—and Mom’s gunshot scar. “You’re in danger too, aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to lie to you—this is dangerous work sometimes. But I can tell you that I have been doing this job a long time. Your mother and I are both very good agents—we watch out for one another.”

“But you’ve gotten hurt before, haven’t you? And Mom—she was even shot once.”

“Your Mom getting shot had nothing to do with our jobs,” Dad told her. “And yes, we’ve been hurt. But you can get hurt in a lot of jobs.”

“Lisa’s dad’s in construction—he fell and broke his leg once.” 

“You see?” Dad told her. “And he turned out all right, didn’t he?”

“Well yeah, but he doesn’t have people actually trying to hurt him either.” Jenna took in a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly. “Just promise me you’re careful.”

“I promise,” Dad said.  “I’m always careful—your Mother makes sure I am.”

Jenna smiled.  “Yeah, she makes sure I’m careful too.” A sudden horrible thought hit her—she didn’t want to think it, but she had to know—had to ask.

“Dad?” 

“Yeah?”

She turned to look at him.  “The kidnapping—that had nothing to do with your jobs, did it?”

“No. Nothing at all—I promise.” Dad said. “But our jobs and our Agency did help us to find you.”

That made sense. “That’s why you were there—and why you had a gun.”

“That’s right. We found out where he had taken you and we took the Agency chopper so we could get there ahead of him.” 

Jenna thought about that night—what Gary had done—how close it had come to being all over for her—a shiver ran through her body and Dad’s arm tightened around her. “I’m so glad you were there,” she told him.

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m very glad we were there too.”

“What about the guys in the courtroom?”

“Guys in the courtroom?”

“The ones in suits and sunglasses—they stopped Gary when he tried to approach me in the courtroom?”

“Yes,” he told her. “They were agents. Billy and I wanted them there; just in case he tried anything.”

“Good idea.” Jenna took another sip of orange juice. “And that man you were speaking to? Was that about a case?”

“It was, yes.”

“Is what Mom’s doing is part of a case too?”

“Part of the same case.” Dad replied. “Your Mom and I are partners. I didn’t know where she was exactly—she was undercover.”

So when Dad had said that he didn’t know—he had been telling the truth. “I understand,” Jenna said.

Are there any other questions that you have?”

Did she?  Part of Jenna’s mind was still spinning; trying to process everything she’d been told.  “Not right now,” she said. “Maybe later.” 

“That’s just fine, munchkin—whenever you’re ready I’ll be here to talk.”  Dad paused. “Now there are some questions I need to ask you  about your notebook. Has anyone else seen it?”

“No—not except for you,” Jenna said.

“None of your friends?”

“Well I did mention something to Lisa about this.” 

“And?”

“She thought I was probably imagining things. We only spoke about it one time.” 

“One time—you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure—she didn’t even believe me. And at the time I really didn’t believe me either.” 

“Okay,” Dad said. “Jenna—this notebook. I’m afraid it’s going to need to be destroyed. We can’t run the risk of anyone finding it. I could ask you to hide it, but if someone ever broke in here and found it we don’t know what they might do.” 

“Okay.”

“Your Mom and I do have secret identities,” Dad took her hands again, his eyes looking into hers. “And now that you know the truth, you’re going to need to protect it just like we do. That means no talking to your friends about this—not even to Lisa or to anybody else. No emails, no text messages—nothing.”

“I understand,” she said again.

“This is for your own safety as well as ours.  We don’t want anyone to try and hurt you to get to us.”

“Dad, I really do understand.” 

“I know you do, munchkin.”  Dad said. “And there are also going to be things we can’t tell you—classified things that you can’t know.  And I don’t want you to go behind our backs and snoop—it’s not safe. All right?”

“All right.” 

Dad smiled. “Good. Is there anything else?” 

“One more thing. Do you have a name?” 

“A name?”

“Well, you know. You said you had a secret identity. Do you have a special name?” 

“Oh, I see,” Dad said. “Well I can tell you that it isn’t The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

“Da-ad,” Jenna felt the heat rising in her cheeks.  Letting go of her hands Dad reached down and picked up her Scarecrow doll, which had fallen on the floor. He handed it to her.

“That’s my code name,” he told her.

“Scarecrow?” Dad nodded. Jenna looked at her doll as comprehension dawned. Now that he’d said it, it all fit into place. A memory popped up—that one Halloween, trick or treating—hadn’t that man called him Scarecrow?

“That’s a good name,” she said. “How did you get it?”

“Someone gave it to me. It’s kind of complicated.”

Meaning he wasn’t going to tell her—at least not yet.  “Does Mom have a code name?”

“No, your Mom never really needed one.” Dad squeezed her hands and stood. “I have some things to take care of—why don’t you finish your breakfast and then the day is ours.”

“I will,” Jenna replied.  “I love you Dad.”

“Love you too, munchkin.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

9:30 AM

“How did it go?”  Dotty asked him as she removed a load from the dryer, placing the clothes in a basket.  “You two were up there for at least an hour.”

“Actually it went really well,” Lee replied. “I think it came as a shock, but actually she seemed to take it in stride.” 

“You sound surprised.”  Dotty placed the clothes basket on top of the dining room table.  She cast him a sideways glance as she began to fold, sorting the clothes into their separate piles. “Did you expect more?”

“Frankly, yes. I remember how the boys reacted at first.” In his mind he could still hear Phillip’s accusing tone—the stunned look on Jamie’s face—the way that he’d run upstairs to his room and slammed the door.

“And I remember my reaction,” Dotty told him. “But that was probably more to do with the secret marriage than anything else.  Circumstances are different this time Lee; I think Jenna understands that you and Amanda were only trying to protect her.”

“You don’t think there’ll be some kind of delayed reaction?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Dotty remarked. “Though personally I doubt it. I should warn you that you and Amanda might find yourself at the receiving end of at least a thousand questions or more.” 

“Prepared for that.” At least he thought he was prepared—though he’d learned from experience that you could never be completely prepared where kids were concerned. The time when Jenna had found that old letter from Candi and interrogated both him and Amanda about Brazilian waxes was still fresh in his memory.

“Well I have a question for you,” Dotty said. “Any idea when Amanda might be back?” 

“No—not exactly,” Lee admitted, running a hand back through his hair. “Though I can tell you that it should be soon.” Hopefully very soon—and he knew that Amanda would want to talk to Jenna as well.

“Thank  Heavens,” Dotty said. “There’s an awful lot to do, getting this house ready for the party Friday night with eight thirteen year old girls. The family room shelves, for instance—they need to be organized and dusted.”

“Eight?” Lee repeated. “I thought there was only supposed to be six or seven.”

“Well there was,” Dotty said. “But as I understand it there was a girl Tracy that Lisa wasn’t speaking to and now she is, so—” she shrugged.

“Great,” Lee sighed. Though in the long run eight really wouldn’t be that different from seven, he supposed.  Still, the thought of eight giggly girls staying up all night doing Lord only knows whatever it was that they did—

“You said you needed help with the family room shelves?”  He asked.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

10:40 AM

“Dad, you know these are an awful lot of shelves,” Jenna said. “And some of them are way too high for me.” 

“Well, I’ll take care of those, munchkin,” Lee told her. “You can take care of the stuff you can reach, all right?”

“But Dad—”

“It does need to be done before your party Friday, munchkin—we’ll go out to dinner after, what do you say?”

Jenna smiled. “Sure. It wouldn’t be fair, anyway, would it?  To leave all this to Grandma.”

“No that would not be fair.”  He tousled her hair. “Why don’t you get started on the video and DVD shelf? That could use some straightening.” 

“Okay. Umm—I guess I should I separate the home movies from the regular movies, right?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Lee started taking pictures down from the top shelves—a layer of dust covered the frames—a testament to how long it had been since they’d done this. “So—your Grandma tells me there are eight girls coming?”

“Oh yeah, I meant to tell you. Lisa’s speaking to Tracy again, so she can come.”  Jenna looked up at him. “That’ll be okay, right?” 

“It’ll be fine.  Just please don’t add any more.”

Jenna giggled. “I won’t—don’t worry. I meant to tell you before, you know—but things came up and—”

“Believe me, you don’t have to explain. I understand what things came up,” Lee replied. “What kind of things do you do at these slumber parties, anyway?” 

“Play games, listen to music, watch movies—talk—that’s the gist of it. Christy says she’s bringing a lot of movies.” 

“Nothing scary, right?”

“No,” Jenna’s tone was vehement as she stacked a pile of cassettes on the floor.  “Definitely nothing scary—probably comedies. PG-13 is okay, right?” 

“Well you are thirteen now, so I don’t see a problem.”

“True—she said she might bring a movie called Dirty Dancing—I’ve never seen it before but Christy says her Mom likes it and that’s it’s a good movie and it’s PG-13.” 

Dirty Dancing—suddenly Lee’s collar felt a little too tight—he looked down at his daughter—still very much a child in size and build though Dotty claimed a growth spurt was just around the corner.

Growing up—

‘I did say PG-13 was all right—I can’t go back on it—’ Jenna was staring at him now. “What—ahh—what games are you going to play?” 

“Well—” Jenna sucked in her lower lip “No séances or anything like that.”

“Very good idea.  So what games?”

“Twister, Monopoly—maybe Pictionary though I can’t draw. Oh and some game called ‘Dream Date’ that Lisa really wants to play but she’s kind of boy crazy right now.”

Boys. He tried to keep his tone as casual as possible.  “You’re not. You know—boy crazy, are you?”

“Not crazy,” Jenna said.  “I mean, I like boys, you know. Especially Paul Davidson. But I’m not crazy or anything. I don’t think there’s any rush to, you know—run out and get a boyfriend or anything like that.”  

Relief washed over Lee. “No, there’s no rush. You have plenty of time for things like that.” 

“Yeah—and besides I don’t even know if any boys would like me that way.” 

“Oh, trust me— I don’t think you’ll have any problems with that.” 

Jenna smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“Anytime. Hey—remember this?” Lee showed Jenna the photo.

“Oh yeah—that Halloween,” Jenna took the photo from him, a smile on her face as she studied it. “I was thinking about that when you talked about your name being Scarecrow.  You know that straw on my forehead really itched.”

“I remember.”

“You made a good Cowardly lion,” Jenna’s fingers traced the picture.

“And you made an excellent Scarecrow,” he told her.

“Hey, who was that guy that night?”  Jenna asked. “You remember—that weird guy who called you Scarecrow?”

He couldn’t believe she remembered that. “That was Dr. Smyth—he used to be the head of the Agency.”

“Before Billy?” 

“That’s right—Billy took the position after Dr. Smyth died.”

Jenna was silent for a moment.  “You know it still seems so strange.”

“What seems strange?”

“That you and Mom are spies—like one of Grandma’s  James Bond books or the movies. I guess I’m still trying to work it out in my head. “

“Well you know that James Bond is fictional, munchkin. Real spying is not always that exciting.” 

“Actually, I’m kind of glad of that,” Jenna said. “Being like James Bond all the time—that would be really dangerous.  Oh look—my baby book.” She pulled out the thin pink volume, turning the pages. “Oh I’m so sorry I scribbled on it.” 

“Well, you were three at the time—it happens. Come over here.”  He led them over to the sofa where they sat down.  “Your grandmother gave this to us the day we came home from the hospital.”

“Born January 30, 1989.three-forty PM, Galilee General Hospital,”  Jenna read aloud.

“Yeah, your mother went into labor that morning,”  Lee told her. “I was in Billy’s office when she called me.” 

*~~*

“It’s time.”  Those two simple words—and Lee knew that from that moment on his life would be changed forever.

*~~*

“What did you do?” 

“Oh, I tore down the hallway in a blind panic and sped all the way to the hospital.”

“That sounds like you,” Jenna replied.

*~~*

“Amanda if this keeps up, our baby will be born in the car.”   Driving behind a guy who must have been plodding along at about twenty-five miles at least—didn’t this jerk know that he had an emergency here?

*~~*

“I just wanted everything to turn out all right.”

“And it did—it all worked out?” 

Jenna had heard most of this story before, Lee knew—from both him and Amanda—yet somehow she never seemed to tire of it.   “Everything turned out fine. We got there in time and I was there when you were born.”

“And that’s me—what I looked like back then.”  Jenna turned a page in the baby book and pointed at the photo of herself in the hospital—cradled in Amanda’s arms.

“That’s you, munchkin—you were beautiful.” 

“I look all red and wrinkly.”

“Well that’s the way that all newborns look.”

“You held me and you cut the umbilical cord.”

“And I got to change your first diaper.” 

“Oh Dad—diapers.” 

“Yes—diapers. It’s all part of having kids—maybe not always the most enjoyable part—they can get awfully smelly.”

“Stop—please,” Jenna protested—but she was smiling.  “I’ll have kids one day.” 

“You will.”  Lee tried to picture Jenna all grown up—in a wedding gown someday—holding a baby of her own—that day would come sooner than he thought—maybe sooner than he wanted it to.  “Promise me one thing though.”

“What?” 

“That you won’t shut me out?  One of the things that bothered me this past week was that you weren’t talking to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna drew in a deep breath—looking down at her lap and then up at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought maybe I was going crazy; imagining things. I was worried about what you might think of me.” 

“Jenna, nothing you could say would make me think badly of you—if anything is ever bothering you can talk about it.”Lee paused, looking at her. “I know that you’re getting older and more independent and that’s good—I know you’re not going to tell me everything, but I hope we can always talk to one another.” 

“We will—I promise.” 

“Good.”  He patted her shoulder.  “Now let’s get these shelves done, huh?  The sooner we finish the sooner we can go out to eat.”

TBC

Keeping Secrets--Chapter Seven 

IFF

Wednesday, January 30, 2002 

3:30 PM

“Thank you for the information, Amanda,” Billy said. “This really is excellent work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Amanda replied. “I just hope this can shut the network down.”  When she thought of what this man had planned on doing with ‘Victoria Greenwich’s’ money—the innocent lives that could’ve been lost—the very thought made her shudder.

“Well with this—” Francine held up the envelope “—as well as the information that Groesbeck provided, we should be able to move in on these fake charities and put DeVrees and most of his network behind bars.”

“And your cover wasn’t compromised?”  Billy asked. 

“No,” Amanda shook her head. “As far as DeVrees knows, I’m still Victoria Greenwich. Sir, what will happen to Groesbeck? He risked his life to get that information to Lee.”

“Groesbeck is going to turn State’s evidence and,” Billy told her. “After which we’ll move him to a different part of the country and provide him with a new identity. Were there any other difficulties?”

Other difficulties? Amanda thought briefly about seeing Lee’s car in Kenmore’s parking lot. Should she mention it?  Probably not. After all, it was only a possibility—she wasn’t absolutely certain that Jenna had seen her on the veranda and it wasn’t actually crucial to the case.

Even if Jenna hadn’t seen her, though—things were coming too close to home for Amanda’s comfort—something had to be done before anything else happened.

‘We have to tell her—there isn’t any choice.’

“No sir,” she said aloud.  “No difficulties.”

Billy smiled. “Good to know. In that case you should probably get home—I know you’re looking forward to seeing Lee and Jenna—and tell my goddaughter Happy Birthday from me.” 

“That goes for me too, Amanda,” Francine said.

“I will do that.” Was it Amanda’s imagination, or did both Billy and Francine have that ‘cat that swallowed the canary look’?  Did they know something she didn’t? 

But what could they know?

One thing she knew for certain, she needed to get home, see Jenna—and have a long talk with Lee about breaking the truth to their daughter.

Hopefully she’d be able to convince him to see things her way.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr.

4:15 PM

“I’m home!”  Amanda called out as she entered.  For a moment she just stood where she was, drinking in the familiar surroundings. Almost a month since she’d been home—somehow it felt like forever.

“Hello there, stranger,” Lee sauntered in, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body close to his. “You come here often?” 

“This is the way you normally greet strangers, Stetson?”  Amanda replied.

“It’s the way I greet you,” Lee let his finger trace her lips.  “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” Amanda murmured and Lee smiled, his lips bending to brush against her own, lightly at first and then more firmly as he deepened the kiss, breaking off when the need for oxygen became apparent.

“Quite a welcome,” Amanda said breathlessly, looking up at her husband.

“Well—there’s more where that came from later tonight,” Lee replied. “Much more.”

The corners of Amanda’s lips turned up in a smile. “Looking forward to that.”   She paused. “Lee, there’s probably something we should—”

“Mom!”  Jenna barreled into the room—her arms wrapping around her mother. “You’re home! I’m so glad to see you.” 

Amanda smoothed her daughter’s hair as she held her close. “I’m glad to see you too, sweetheart—and Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, Mom. So—did everything go all right?” Jenna looked up at her. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

Odd way to put the question—Jenna was used to her parents going out on shooting locations and yet Amanda could hear the anxiety in her voice. Maybe it was because the mission had been zero contact , but nevertheless it was a little strange. “I’m just fine,” she told Jenna. “How are you?”

“I’m good—much better now that you’re home.”

Something was going on—over the years she’d developed a definite sixth-sense when it came to her children. Amanda opened her mouth to ask Jenna when Lee cleared his throat.

“Ahh, munchkin—your Mom and I need to talk—why don’t you go see if you can help your Grandma with anything?” 

“Okay.”  Jenna’s eyes darted from one to the other.  “Have a nice talk.”

“We will,” Lee replied. Jenna ran up the stairs. Once she was out of sight he turned to Amanda.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” Taking her hands he led her over to the sofa where they sat down.  “It’s about Jenna.” 

“What about Jenna?”Amanda asked. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

“No—no, nothing’s wrong,” Lee said. “But she’s been asking a lot of questions lately—especially with you being away on assignment—naturally she was curious about everything that’s been going on.”

“Well actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Amanda said. “Jenna’s thirteen now—I know that in your head she’s still a little girl, but she’s a teenager now—before too long she’ll be a young woman.” 

“Amanda—” Lee began, but she continued.

“And I know you think she’s too young—that’s what you’ve said before but I think we can trust her to keep a secret and to understand why we’ve kept this from her. I really don’t think it has to be traumatic.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I think too—”

“Besides, if we don’t tell her soon and she starts investigating on her own she could really get herself into danger, which is the very last thing that we want to happen after all she’s already been through—”

“I agree.”

“So I think we just need to sit her down and explain all this to her and—” Amanda’s ramble broke off as what Lee had said began to sink in. “You agree?”

“Yes, I do—that’s what I need to tell you.”  Lee’s eyes looked deeply into hers as he spoke. “As a matter of fact, I actually told her this morning.”

“This morning?” Amanda repeated. Suddenly Jenna’s behavior, her questions—it all clicked into place. No wonder she had reacted that way.

“Well ideally—” Lee drew in a deep breath and let in out. “I would’ve liked to have waited until we could both tell her together, but it didn’t quite work out that way. I found a notebook that she’d been writing in. She had been investigating us.”

“For how long?”

“About a week—maybe a little more. She caught me talking to Groesbeck in the mall and then she saw you at the house next to the school and she started to wonder.”

“Oh my gosh—I thought she might have seen me but I wasn’t sure,” Amanda said. “What she must have  thought—”

“She didn’t know what to think,” Lee replied.  “But that sort of jumpstarted everything and she started wondering about other  things in her life that didn’t make sense—she even tried to follow me—to see what I did.”  Another deep breath. “And then when I found the notebook and went to Billy with it—”

“You had to tell her for her own safety, and for the Agency’s—for security reasons.”  Amanda finished her husband’s sentence. “Trust me, I really do understand. How did she take it?”

“It was a little bit of a shock I think,” Lee said. “But I was calm with her, and patient—and all in all I think she took it pretty well.”

“It sounds like you handled it really well,” Amanda told him. “Though I know you were worried that she wasn’t ready to hear the truth.”

“There’s a lot that I worry about,” Lee admitted, running his thumbs along the top of her palms. “There’s her safety, of course. But there’s also boys, clothes—when she starts to date or learns how to drive or goes to the prom—”

“Lee, some of those things won’t happen for years. You still have plenty of time.”

“I know that, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the prospect of her growing up frightens me—I mean, I remember the boys as teenagers, but they were boys and it’s—” he shrugged.

“It’s different with a daughter, I know,” Amanda replied. “I can remember myself at that age, some of the crazy things I did—though that doesn’t mean that Jenna will do the same things,” she said hastily as she saw the growing panic in Lee’s expression.

Lee sighed. “Maybe not—I just think of what’s coming up. She says she’s not interested having a boyfriend now, but there will be a time when she is. I’m just not sure I can handle that.”

“Aren’t you? Look how you handled this,” Amanda said. “Look at how much we’ve already dealt with this past year, Lee—all of us.  Having a teenage daughter won’t be easy but we’ll handle all this—we’ll do it together.”

Together, she thought.  They could handle anything together. Looking  into her husband’s eyes she could see that he believed it too.

“Together, Mrs. Stetson,” Lee replied as he lowered his mouth onto hers.

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Friday , February 1, 2002 

5:30 AM 

The bar was nearly deserted as Jenna strolled in—the only customer appeared to be a slim dark-haired woman wearing a black dress and slowly sipping from a glass of champagne. Nearly deserted was good—Jenna thought—less people meant less trouble.

Not that she was expecting trouble, but a good spy had to learn to expect the unexpected. 

The woman smiled as Jenna drew closer—it was Lisa.

“Join me?” She asked Jenna.

“In a moment,” Jenna replied. “I have some business to deal with first.” 

“I understand,” Lisa nodded sagely.  “Better watch out for Two-Face, though.  I hear she’s on the warpath.”

“Believe me, I can handle it,” Jenna said. “She won’t give me any trouble. I’ll be right back.” Slowly she walked up to the bar.

“I hear that the night owls come here,” she said pointedly

The bartender put down the glass he’d been polishing and stared at her. “All the night owls are out flying,” he replied.

Jenna shook her head.  “No, only the goose flies at night.”

“I’ve got just what you need, lady.”  Jenna watched as the man reached under the counter and drew out a packet; wrapped in newspaper and secured in twine. She reached for it—her fingers wrapping around the object.

At last—the object which would prevent the world from nuclear disaster.

Before Jenna could say anything else something hard was jammed into the small of her back.

“Well, if it isn’t Bond,” a familiar voice said. “Jenna Bond.”

“Two-Face Terri,” Jenna’s mind raced.  Should she try to go for the stiletto she carried in the top of her boot?  No—too risky.  Her eyes met the bartender’s—she could see the panic in his expression.

“It’s just Terri to you,” Terri retorted. “Only my friends can call me by that name.”

“And how many people is that?” 

“Shut up!”  Terri jammed the gun harder into her back.

There was only one thing to do.  “Can I have a milkshake?”  Jenna asked the bartender.  “A chocolate one—shaken, not stirred.” 

“Right away, ma’am.”  She could see the panic in his expression but at least he was holding it together.

“Enough fooling!”  There was a click as Terri pulled back the hammer. “Hand that package over. Now!”

She meant it. Jenna took the packet and handed it to the blond woman. 

“And now we’re leaving,” Terri told her. “You and me. I’m taking you for a ride.”

“But my milkshake is here.”  Jenna picked up the glass that the bartender had set in front of her.  “You have to let me at least drink it.” 

“No way, Jenna—that is not—” But before Terri could say anything more Jenna quickly turned, knocking the gun to the floor and pouring the contents over Two-Face Terri’s head—the woman spluttered furiously as Jenna quickly relieved her of the package. 

“You forgot to expect the unexpected—” she told Terri….

Jenna’s eyes opened. For a moment she stared around the familiar room, lit by the soft glow of her lamp.  Wow—what a strange dream that had been. Then her eyes fell on the book—the book she’d fallen asleep reading.  You Only Live Twice—a James Bond novel—and before that The Maltese Falcon—no wonder she’d had that dream—she must have spies on the brain.

A noise from downstairs. Someone up when it was still dark outside? Jenna’s eyes fell on her alarm clock.  Five-thirty in the morning.  Two hours left to sleep but after that dream she didn’t feel like sleeping. Sitting on the edge of her bed she slid her feet into slippers and put on her robe, making her way downstairs.  The noise was coming from the kitchen, she realized—and she could also smell chocolate and the faint aroma of peppermint.  Jenna walked into the kitchen. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mom put something into the oven and shut the door. “I hope I didn’t wake you, but I wanted to get a head-start on your cake.”

“No, you didn’t wake me—I just had a strange dream, that’s all.” 

“A bad dream?”  Mom’s eyes filled with concern.  Of course she would worry about a bad dream, Jenna thought—after the year she’d had who wouldn’t?

“No, it wasn’t bad.” She sat down at the counter. “Just weird—and a little funny, I guess. But now I can’t go back to sleep. Does that make sense?”

Mom smiled. “Perfect sense. Why don’t I make us some hot chocolate?” 

“That sounds good.”  Leaning her elbow on the counter Jenna watched as her Mom, wearing her familiar blue-fleece bathrobe, moved around the kitchen, grabbing the cocoa, the marshmallows—taking the milk out of the fridge.  Her ordinary Mom—or at least she’d thought so until recently.  Mom was a spy—they’d had a brief conversation about it on Wednesday, of course, but part of Jenna still—

“It’s so weird to think of you as a spy.” The words sprung from Jenna’s mouth before she could stop them. Had she said the wrong thing? Mom fell silent for a few moments as she poured the milk in the pan and slowly stirred the chocolate in. 

“To tell you the truth, sweetheart, it still seems strange to me at times,” Mom said. “It wasn’t exactly what I’d planned on doing.”

“How did you get into it?”  Jenna asked.

“Well, it was a little over eighteen years ago,” Mom replied.  “I took Dean to the train station that morning because it was raining—”

“Who’s Dean?” 

“He was someone I was dating at the time—before I met your father.”

It made sense that Mom had been dating, she reasoned. After all she had been married once before, to Phillip and Jamie’s dad Joe, who had passed away a couple of years ago.  He’d been a nice guy; very friendly to her even though they weren’t actually related.  Still it felt weird—to think of Mom with this Dean guy.

“What happened when you went to the train station?” she asked. 

“I went in my nightgown because I only thought I’d be dropping him off and going back home,” Mom continued as she placed the mixing bowl into the sink. “And I did see him off but then this man wearing a waiter’s suit ran up to me and asked me to walk with him. I didn’t want to at first, but he said that he was in trouble.” 

“Was that Dad?” 

Mom nodded. 

“What did you do?” 

“He asked me to take this package—I was supposed to get on the train and hand it to the man in the red hat,” Mom told her. “But when I got on the train there were at least twenty-five men wearing red hats and the train started to leave and I didn’t even have a ticket.”

“Did the package ever get where it was supposed to go?”

“Not exactly,” Mom poured the hot chocolate into two mugs, sprinkling tiny marshmallows on each. “But it did work out, and I helped to solve the case.  After that, I started helping out more and more.”

“As a spy working with Dad?”

“Not at first, no.”  Mom handed her one of the mugs and Jenna wrapped her hands around it, gulping the sweet liquid.  “We kept working together—and finally we became partners and I became a full-time agent.” 

“And then you married.”

“We did.”  Mom sat across from her.  “And then we had you not all that long after.” 

And all because of a chance meeting in a train station eighteen years ago—Jenna thought. That meeting had changed their lives—all their lives—forever.  She took another sip.

“I’m very glad you met that day,” she said aloud.

“So, am I,” Mom agreed.  “Are you looking forward to your slumber party tonight?”

“Yeah—it should be a lot of fun, I think,” Mom  said. “But please—no underwear in the freezer.”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “But how did you—”

“Sweetheart, I am a spy—and I also remember what  slumber parties used to be like,”  Amanda said. “So is that a deal?”

Jenna smiled. “It’s a deal.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

9:30 PM

“Isn’t Patrick Swayze adorable?”  Lisa’s voice.  From his vantage point at the top of the stairs Lee couldn’t really see anything, but he could hear every word. The strains of ‘Be My Baby’ could be heard over the conversation.

“He’s still not as cute as Leo,” Christy replied.

“Are you kidding me? “ Another girl replied.  “Look at Patrick—that’s a man. Compared to him Leo just looks like a little kid.” 

“Stacy, face it,” Jenna’s voice. “You just want him to dance with you like he’s dancing with that girl in the movie.”

“Sure, don’t you?” 

Lee held his breath, his hand gripping the side of the wall—waiting for his daughter’s reply.

“Maybe, but I’d want to be older if I was dancing like that—not a kid.”

Lee let out his breath in a sigh.

“Well, duh—” Lisa retorted. “That’s kind of a given.”

“What are we talking about anyway?” Christy’s voice rose slightly. “This movie is old. Patrick Swayze probably looks decrepit by now.”

“Does not,” Lisa said. 

A hand tapped Lee on the back; startling him—he’d been so into the conversation that he hadn’t even noticed anyone coming from behind.

“Lee,” Amanda whispered. “We promised we wouldn’t spy on them, remember?”

“I know, Amanda—” But somehow Lee seemed to be frozen to the spot. Her hand tugged at his arm—Lee ignored her. 

“Listen,” Jenna was saying. “Why don’t we stop arguing about guys and play a game or something.”

“But not the dating game—we played that twice already.” Lisa said. “What about twister?”

“Can we watch Titanic while we play?”  Christy asked.

“Yes, Christy,” the girls chorused before they burst into laughter.

“Lee!”  Amanda hissed sharply, as she hit him on the back of her arm.  Reluctantly Lee stepped away from the stairway, following his wife back to their bedroom.

“Just what were you doing?”  She stood facing him, arms crossed.

“I just wanted to know,” Lee replied. “I wasn’t really trying to spy—but I was curious about what was going on—what they were doing down there.”

“And what did you find out?”  Amanda’s eyes looked into his.

“That they were doing normal things—talking about normal things.” Lee fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “To tell you the truth, it made me feel good.”

“In what way?”

“Well, it wasn’t too long ago when we didn’t think anything would be normal with Jenna,” Lee explained. “And after this—when she found out the truth—”

“You were worried it might set her back?”

A nod. “A little. I mean, all we’ve ever wanted to do is give her a normal life—granted this past year has been anything but normal, but I hoped we were heading that way. And Jenna having to find out the news like this—right now—I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t worry me.” 

“Does it still worry you?”

Lee laughed ruefully. “She’s my daughter and a teenager—I think worry comes with the territory. But on the other hand Jenna is very levelheaded—and she’s strong.”

“Yes she is,” Amanda agreed. “Look at how well she handled the hearing and the trial. I think she can handle this—knowing our secret.”

“I think you’re right,” Lee replied.  A sudden burst of laughter floated upstairs. “Doesn’t sound like they’re ready to slumber any time soon.”

“How about you, Stetson?” 

“Me?”

“Are you ready to slumber?” Her hand ran lightly up and down his arm—her touch sent tingles down his spine. Lee pulled her close.

“Well you know,” he told her as his lips grazed her neck. “Slumber isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Amanda asked, slightly breathless as Lee hit that sensitive spot just behind her ear. “Care to show me what you did have in mind?”’

Lee grinned. “Gladly, Mrs. Stetson,” he said as he lowered her onto the bed.