Natasha lay in Darren's arms after making love. She had just made him the happiest man on the planet a few hours before by telling him she decided on a date for them to marry.
She also told him the reason why she chose that particular date. And knowing Natasha as well as he did, Darren thought it made sense. She finally declared her independence from her past and was ready to make a committment to him for life.
He was always so intrigued by the interplay of their bodies together as they lay there sated. Her skin, fair and creamy white, contrasted against the olive skin tone of his mother's Italian ancestors.
Darren had never known his father. He left Darren's pregnant teenage mother when he learned she carried his child. Darren was three when he met the man whose surname he carried. He was the man he proudly called "Dad" until his death when Darren was in college.
Natasha knew all this about Darren, and she loved him all the more because of it. And she wanted to spend the rest of life with him.
Darren waited a lifetime for the right woman to come along. None of the others could hold a candle to Natasha Vincent. Even while he was waiting for Natasha to realize that what she felt about him was not only true, but that she could truly trust him, he didn't even look at another woman. Other women tried to entice Darren into their fun and games, but he wasn't having any of it. Some had even accused him of being gay. He told many of them that there was someone special in his life, but she wanted to keep their relationship from being the main focus of their lives. His position as the CIA Director had to come first. And Natasha still felt that way.
Darren lay there with the woman he loved and wished his mother had lived long enough to meet her. Theresa Tremonti Dixon had been his rock, and the one woman all others had to be measured against. Only Natasha came close.
He noticed that Natasha had fallen asleep. She had been up since early the previous morning taking care of business.
"Ahh, Natasha, my sweet Queen of Hearts," he said softly to her sleeping form; "I will be proud to call you my wife."
The days following Steve's death went by in a blur. Nico didn't remember half of what was going on, and was glad her grandmother was there to help Nico keep her wits about her.
She didn't remember calling the funeral home or making the burial arrangements or contacting the priest who would say the Funeral Mass. When it got to be too much, Nonna took over.
Nico remembered when her mother died less than a decade before; Nonna took care of everything, then, too. Her stepfather, David, was in too much pain to do it himself. Her mother was the second wife he had to bury, and it was just too much.
"How do you do it, Nonna?" Nico asked her one day as Stefanie was about to call the florist to arrange for flowers to be sent to the mortuary.
"Do what, Nicoletta?" Stefanie asked.
"All this funeral shit," Nico said; "How come you can keep a clear head even when you're in your worst pain?"
"Because it has to be done, Nico," her grandmother said; "You have to just get beyond your pain and just push ahead. There's time for the actual mourning later, in private, when you can sob uncontrollably if you wish."
"I can't seem to do that," Nico said; "I haven't yet shed a tear for Steve. Is that normal?"
Stefanie took her oldest granddaughter's hand and said, "Yes, Nico, it's normal. You're still in a state of disbelief. Even if you're expecting it, like I was when your grandfather died, you still don't really believe it's happened."
"I don't want people to think I'm insensitive, Nonna," Nico said; "That my inability to cry right now means I didn't love him, because Nonna, you know I did."
"I know, sweetheart," Stefanie said; "And no one will think that."
"I hope you're right," Nico said; she always felt a little better when she got a chance to talk to Nonna. Nico was so glad that Nonna decided to move to Chicago from Virginia Beach after Cole was born.
"The only thing I don't have experience with is that 21 gun salute business that they're going to do at the funeral," Stefanie said; "None of the people we've lost in this family up til now were military or police."
"The Department always does that," Nico said; "I've been to enough police funerals to know that."
"Let me call the florist, Nicoletta, then we'll talk more, okay?" Stefanie said.
Nico nodded. To herself she said, Nonna I have to get this guilt off my chest! Steve's dead because I cheated on him!
She then got up and went to her bedroom, sat on the bed and stared out the window. She could see the downtown Chicago skyline from there.
Nico allowed her mind to think about Eddie and where he was right at that moment.
She was still convinced that it wasn't Eddie's fault, and it wasn't Steve's fault;
"All mine," she said aloud; "It's all mine."
Finally, Marsh's team got an idea where Summers and her family were. There had been a spotting of someone who matched Julia Summers description and two team members went to check it out.
Marsh had gotten word that his second in command back in Collinsville had been killed, so A.R.M. was not being personally run by anyone. He had all communications sent to him, and he didn't like what he had learned.
"That asshole Owens threatened our main benefactor's children?" he said aloud as he read a police report that had been emailed to him. "Maybe he deserved to get iced, then. But who killed the stupid son of a bitch?"
The police report didn't say whether they killed Owens, or someone else did.
It didn't matter to Marsh anymore. The man was dead. He had been a royal pain in the ass as far as Marsh was concerned. Owens was not happy when he found out he'd been passed over for the head leadership role by someone from out of the organization.
"I guess this means DeWitt has stopped contributing to the cause after all," Marsh said; "Fine by me. If I don't find Summers here, I'm probably going to walk away from this sorry bunch of losers. They couldn't stage an intervention, much less take over the government of the United States!"
Marsh's phone rang. It was one of the team members who went to check out Summers' whereabouts.
"Marsh," he said gruffly.
"Boss, we've narrowed down Summers' location to a six block area around Fisherman's Wharf. Called the Marina District. Instructions?"
He thought about it for a second, then replied, "Just keep an eye out for her or her children. The oldest is much taller than her mother. The other children are redheads. They shouldn't be hard to spot. Any sign of the man that's supposed to be with them?"
"None, sir," the agent said; "But we're still looking for him, too."
"You know your instructions for the time being," Marsh said; "Do not approach the family until you ascertain it is indeed them. Then wait for further instructions."
"Yes, sir," the man said and broke the connection.
They're probably not even here, Marsh thought. I hope for their sake that they aren't. Then I can keep my promise to Nicoletta.
The very thought of her, and the fact he might never see her again, bothered him.
How can I love a woman I can never have? he asked himself; Is any promise I make to her enforceable? How would she know if I did or did not carry out my mission to eliminate The Triad.
He decided then and there that he would, if the opportunity presented itself, take out Julia Summers. Nicoletta and his feelings for her were pushed to the very back of his mind.
He'd forget all about his time with her.
It would come back to haunt him several months later, after he had already broken his promise to her.
II
February dawned, and the weather in Wyoming warmed up to a sultry 28 degrees.
Plans were being set into motion, and the Summers children were packing their belongings for the trip home to Chicago.
"I had no idea I had this much crap to pack," groused Zach. "It's not like we actually went anywhere and did anything."
"Just shut up, Zach," Jaime said; "Mom doesn't want to hear any complaining. She's not in the mood for it. I don't like having to pack up my stuff either. And it all has to fit in one box. That's what kills me."
Rachel waltzed into the room to announce she was done packing her one box.
"You have a bunch of stuffed animals, Rach," Jaime said; "Surely you're not taking them all with you!"
"No, I'm not," Rachel said; "Mom said to pick my favorites and leave the rest here. She and Jack will pack them up later."
"Did you write your name on your box, Rachel?" asked Miri.
"That's why I came in here," Rachel said; "I need to borrow the stinky pen so I can do that."
Miri handed her baby sister the large, permanent "Stinky Pen".
"Write your name legibly so we can read it," Miri said.
"I will," Rachel said and left the room to write her name on her box. Miri followed her.
As she was writing "RACHEL REGINA SUMMERS" on her box, Miri looked inside and saw a jumbled mess of clothes, toys, and other stuff.
"You didn't even take the time to fold your clothes, Rachel?" she asked. "Mom's not going to be happy."
"But Miri," Rachel said; "I don't want to take everything out."
"Just take out your clothes and fold them properly, like Mom taught you," Miri said; "I'll figure out what to do with the rest of this stuff. Are you sure you don't want to leave that big elephant behind?"
Rachel looked at her sister like she'd be slapped, saying, "But Miri, PeanutButter has to come with me!"
Miri rolled her eyes. "Okay, the elephant stays; what about this lamp? Shouldn't that stay behind? You have a lamp in your room at home. And this bag of play makeup? Rach, this will all be ruined by the time we get home. You can always get more. Maybe Aaliyah will share with you?"
Rachel was through folding her clothes and she asked Miri, "I didn't plan this very well, did I Miri?"
"You should have put more thought into it, yes," Miri said; "Lamps can break. Clothes will wrinkle if not folded. I know a lot of this stuff has meaning to you, but we're only allowed the one big box. We're leaving in three weeks, and the boxes have to leave first."
"I know, Miri," Rachel said; "But I want something to remember our time up here by."
"Didn't Jack get you the elephant before we even got here?"
"Yes," Rachel said; "He was on my bed when we got here last summer."
"And elephants never forget, right?"
"That's what they say," Rachel said.
"So that can be your memento of our time up here," Miri said. She then sighed to herself. Rachel was still a little girl, and Miri was certain that all this was hard on her. Hell, Miri thought, it's hard on me, and I'm older.
"Miri?"
"Yeah, Rach?" Miri said.
"Thanks for helping me and not yelling at me," Rachel said. "I know I'm being a big baby about all this."
"Rachel, it's okay, baby sister," Miri said; "We came up here unexpectedly. Now we're leaving and it's a bit hard, even for me. think about Mom, though, with Jack as sick as he is."
"Miri, I don't want Jack to die."
Miri put her arm around Rachel's shoulders and said, "I don't either, Rach."
How many girls my age lose two fathers within five years? Miri asked herself. The rest of my life better go a lot better than the last five years have. I'm too young for all this drama and bullshit.
She didn't know it yet, but her family's moving back to Chicago was just the beginning of the rest of Mirielle Summers' life. She'd find death, love, and college within a short time. That would pave the way to her future.
And it would begin as soon as the transport to take Miri and her siblings home arrived.
III
"Well would ya lookit that?!" Nik said under his breath; "Someone took down Ron Owens. Good riddance. Child fucker piece of scum."
Nik knew all about Ronald Owens and his role during the Occupation. He helped procure young girls to be trained as prostitutes, then sent them on to pimps to work. He personally "trained" them himself, more often than not raping girls as young as nine or ten, then threatening their well being if they didn't "perform".
He didn't know until the last several years that Owens was the man responsible for what happened to Natasha and why she was taken from their parents.
At least he can't hurt any more kids, Nik thought. How he ever got away with that shit after the Occupation, I have no fucking idea.
The phone rang. It was Jeremiah on the other end.
"Hey bro," he said; "What's new and exciting in the world of intrigue?"
"Another Occupation scumsucker met his maker this week," Nik said; "Died a nice, bloody death."
"Oh? Who?" asked Jeremiah.
"Ronald Owens," said Nik, wondering if Jeremiah would remember the name.
He did.
"That child rapist dude? Who had the honor of wiping his sorry ass off the planet?" he asked.
"I have no idea," Nik said, "but wouldn't it be awesome if Tasha did it? He's the one who stole her from our parents."
"She's killed everyone else who had anything to do with that," Jeremiah said; "It wouldn't surprise me one bit if she did. But she's pretty much retired from all that, so who knows."
"We just have to get to Marsh," Nik said; "He and his team are running around San Francisco looking for Julia."
"He's gonna be so pissed when he realizes he's been lied to," Jeremiah said.
"Word I'm getting is that he wishes he never took the leadership of A.R.M."
That caught Jeremiah off guard. "Are you fucking kidding me, Nik? Where did you hear that?"
"It was in Carolina Castillo's latest report from Chicago P.D.," Nik said; "She just put the undercover agent who got that little tidbit on a leave of absense."
"Why?" Jeremiah asked.
"The report didn't say, but I suspect it's because the undercover got too close to her target," Nik said.
"Damn, that must be tough on her," Jeremiah said.
"What do you mean?" asked Nik.
"Well imagine, Nik," Jeremiah began, "her assignment was to get shit on him that Dixon could use. Target shows undercover a side of himself that maybe he doesn't show just anyone. Maybe there are mutual feelings on both sides. Then he leaves and she's stuck with the feelings she had for him. Whether he feels likewise, I don't know."
"That's pretty deep for a journalist, brother," Nik said, thinking that Jeremiah had a point.
"I'm madly in love with a beautiful girl," Jeremiah said; "You think I could turn how I feel about her off if, God forbid, something should happen to her? Maybe that's what happened to the undercover agent."
"She's having trouble 'turning it off'?" asked Nik. "It went beyond acting a part and real feelings got involved."
"Not to change the subject, Nik, but did you hear about those cops who got killed last week?" asked Jeremiah. "Lured into an old warehouse, then the guys they went in there to get set off explosives. Five officers went in, one came out. And she's still in the hospital."
"Shit!" Nik said; "That's rough. I'd hate to be the chaplain or the notification officer when shit like that happens."
"Me and you both, brother..."
Smile and nod; smile and nod; smile and nod.
That's all Nico remembered about Steve's funeral. She felt like she was faking it. The kids had no trouble shedding tears, and it broke her heart. I wish I could do that, she thought.
Nico also knew that's what people who didn't really know her expected her to do. Someone has to be the rock, she thought. I'll cry later if I can.
She did remember that she wanted to visit Giulietta Mayo in the hospital as soon as she was allowed visitors. She had been Steve's partner for the last three years. She and her husband, and Nico and Steve sometimes socialized together off duty; their kids were about the same age.
Before she realized it, the funeral and burial were over and she was on her way home with Nonna and the kids. At nearly 71, Nonna still drove... like a maniac! Nico always had to laugh that her grandmother drove like that and never had a speeding ticket.
Nico looked out the window of the car and was lost in thought. All the good times she and Steve had together; the family outings; the vacations; all the things families like hers did together.
Now Steve was gone, and Nico honestly had no idea how she was going to live her life without him.
Then she thought about Eddie, and wondered for the millionth time where he was, what he was doing, and was he thinking about her.
Come on, Nicoletta, she chided herself; Eddie's not thinking about you. You were a distant memory as soon as he walked out the door of that motel room three weeks ago.
She made herself believe it. The alternative she didn't want to think about.
Nico was still feeling guilty as hell. There was only one person she wanted to tell about what happened between her and Eddie. Of all the people she knew, this one person might understand her confusion, her guilt, her intense feelings.
She looked over at her grandmother and thought, Nonna, you're the only one who might get it.
In the living room of their house, stood four large boxes, all marked with the name of the person whose belongings were contained inside.
"Your boxes will be picked up long before you wake up in the morning," Julia told her children; "They're going to the house on the old compound until everyone can be accounted for. They will be placed in your bedrooms until you arrive there. After that, we'll decide what will go with you to the house in Belvidere, and what will stay behind. Anything you've left unpacked here will be packed up and shipped to us after we've all left Wyoming. Does everyone understand what I just said?"
All four children nodded.
This is too weird for me, Miri thought; We came up here in mystery, we're leaving in mystery, and we're not really going back to the old house. I wish this shit made some kind of sense to me.
"Mirielle, what's wrong, princess?" asked Jack, seeing her deep in thought.
"All this seems so surreal, Jack," she said. "Like I'm watching it, and not part of it."
"Hopefully, everything will make sense as the day you're scheduled to leave gets closer," said Jack.
"Why are my brother, sisters and I leaving before you and Mom?"
"Julia thought it would be better, in case those A.R.M. bastards come after her, that you're not with us," Jack said.
"It sounds weird when you talk to me about my mom using her name and not 'your mom'," Miri said.
"Your mom was Julia long before she was your mother, Mirielle," Jack said. "It's what I feel comfortable with."
Miri had to concede that Jack had a point. She then went back to the bedrooms to see what her younger siblings were up to.
Julia came out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. She looked at Jack, saying, "I know this is hard on Miri. She's never been a normal teenager. Not with me as her mom. Maybe when she goes off to college, she'll finally come into her own, and not just be 'Julia Summers' oldest child'."
"It's not easy on the others either, Julia," Jack said, taking a glass of water from her; "They still have a few more years being identified as one of your kids..."
"Sometimes, I wish I hadn't been as good with weapons as I am, and have this reputation following me around," Julia said.
"Julia, you knew when you were a little girl that you'd never be a normal person," said Jack. "You still haven't learned to deal with it?"
"I have, but I was only thinking of myself at the time," she said; "I wasn't thinking about it affecting the kids, too. I was really naive."
"I think we all think that way when we're young," Jack said; "I know I did. Then I met Mirielle and all that changed. What I did affected her, too. She forced me to be accountable for my actions. I'd walk on broken shards of glass to win that woman's approval. I didn't do anything in my life with her that I didn't talk to her about first."
"Ryan and I were the same way," Julia said; "That's why I decided to retire from the assassin game when Miri was a baby. It was already going to be hard enough to be my daughter, I didn't need what I did for a living affect her like it did me."
Jack put his arm around Julia's shoulders, then said softly, "And it will be like that for us, too, for what little time I may have left. I want to spend that time with you."
He took her into his arms and heard her sigh.
Nico tried to get on with life after the funeral, but it wasn't really happening for her. She had a new normal, and she didn't like it much.
She still hadn't cried, and it scared her. Am I this insensitive bitch who cheated on her husband, and guilt was keeping me from mourning properly? she asked herself constantly. Counseling wasn't really helping because on top of the stuff she felt after Eddie left town, now she had to deal with Steve's death.
Finally, about two weeks after the funeral, Nico Nichols could take no more.
The kids had gone back to school, so it was just her in the house alone. Her grandmother had gone back to her own home the week before. But Nico really needed someone to unburden herself to, and Nonna was her best sounding board.
She got on the phone and dialed her grandmother's number. Stefanie answered on the first ring with her traditional greeting:
"Stefanie Travetti speaking."
"Nonna, it's Nico," she spat out suddenly, as if Stefanie would hang up.
"Nicoletta, what's wrong, sweetie?"
"I can't take it any more, Nonna! I have to get this off my chest before it eats me alive!"
"I'll be there in twenty minutes, Nico," Stefanie said gently; "Just hold on."
Breaking down into tears at last, Nico said, "I will, Nonna..."
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