Reign (21 page)

Now who in hell
, Munro wondered,
is that?

~ * ~

Evan Hamilton paused again inside before trying the inner doors, only to find them locked. On either side were ticket booths, both closed, but next to the left-hand booth was a button with a small sign,
Visitors
. He rang it and waited.

In three minutes the curtains behind the glass of one of the inner doors parted, and a woman he did not recognize peered through. He thought she looked mildly frightened of him, and realized that he must be a pretty scary looking figure. So he smiled and gave a little wave, and she opened the door. "Yes?" she said.

"I'm Evan Hamilton. Here to see my father."

An expression of interest lit the woman's face. She was attractive, he thought, if a bit old for him. "Evan," she said, and opened the door wide enough for him to pass through. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Ann Deems. I work for your father."

He followed her the length of the lobby to a door that discreetly hid an elevator, which they entered. Ann pushed a button, and the doors closed. "Does your father know you're coming?"

"No. It's sort of a . . . surprise."

"Ah. Well, fine. That'll be nice." The elevator was slow and cumbersome in its ascent, and he noticed that she was looking at him with what he took to be more than slight interest. As if self-conscious at being caught, she said, stammering a bit, "I think Dennis and Robin are just finishing lunch now."

He smiled. "Think they'll invite me?"

Ann Deems laughed uncomfortably. "I'm sure they will."

They did not speak again until they were standing outside the door of the
Hamiltons
' suite. "Go ahead," she said as he paused at the door. "I'll just leave you here, okay?"

He smiled thinly and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

When he no longer heard her footsteps down the hall, he raised the brass knocker and rapped it on the door. It opened, and he mercifully found himself face to face with Sid Harper, who stood looking at him for a long moment before finally breaking into a huge smile.

"Evan!" Sid said, wrapping him in a bear hug. "
Damn
, but it's good to see you!" He held Evan by his shoulders and looked from his face to his clothes to his face again. "You look . . .
terrible
," he said, and laughed. Evan laughed too, in spite of himself.

"Sid, who . . ." Evan heard a voice from the other side of the room, looked up, and saw Dennis standing in the doorway, Robin behind him. "Evan . . ."

Sid remained between Evan and Dennis, as though hesitant to let the two of them meet, but Evan gently detached himself from Sid's grip and walked over to his father, letting his duffel fall to the floor. "Hello, Dad."

He didn't know what to expect. He had not seen his father for nearly two years, and their parting had not been happy. Though his attention was fixed on Dennis, he saw Robin out of the corner of his eye. He had liked Robin from the first time he met her when he was twelve, and he still saw the hope in her eyes that he had seen then, the hope that in some way he and Dennis could be as close as they were when he was little, before the rounds of private schools and summer camps had isolated him from this man he admired and respected, and feared that he would never be able to make respect him as well.

He stood there now in front of Dennis, and realized that the man had grown older. There was something else too. He didn't look as big as he used to. Had he lost weight, or had Evan merely grown, become a man? Suddenly, as he looked into Dennis's watery and somehow
hunted
eyes, he had the irrational but overwhelming feeling that something was threatening his father, and he wanted nothing more than to be with him and protect him.

"Dad?" he said uncertainly.

"I'm . . . glad to see you, Evan." Dennis held his hands out in front of him, as if not knowing what to do with them, how to make them form a paternal embrace, and the thought ran through Evan's head,
Is he acting?
There were so many times he was unable to tell.

"I'm glad to see you too," Evan said, taking the hands and holding them.

"Hello, Evan," Robin said, her voice as warm as his father's hands were cold. "Welcome home." He felt Dennis's fingers stiffen when she said that. He knew what Robin meant, that this was where his family was, whatever
family
meant, but he wondered if his father felt the same way.

There was a pause that seemed to last forever, but Sid finally broke the silence. "You hungry, Evan?"

He shook his head as he released his father's hands. They stayed where they were for a moment, then slowly the fingers closed, and Dennis brought them back to his side. "No thanks, Sid," Evan said. "I had something."

"Jesus, not airline food."

"Worse. Bus station."

"You came in on the
bus
?" Robin said. "From where?"

"Quantico."

"Virginia?" He nodded. "Then you're on leave?" she asked.

"You might say that," Evan said. "Permanent leave. The Corps and I have parted company."

"I thought you were in for another year or two," Sid said.

"Honorable discharge." Evan smiled. "Always honorable, never fear. Medical reasons.”

"Medical?" Dennis frowned. "Are you all right?"

"The asthma I had when I was a kid kicked up. Nothing life-threatening, but, under the circumstances, pretty inconvenient. They were a little pissed I hadn't told them about it when I enlisted."

"Well, look," said Sid, "I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do, so I'll take care of some shopping. The farmer's market is due to have some fresh cauliflower — I know you always liked that stuff, Evan. You'll, uh, be staying for dinner?"

"I don't know," said Evan. "We'll see."

Sid nodded and took a jacket from the coat tree near the door.

"Hold on, Sid, I'll go with you," said Robin, giving Dennis and Evan a peck on the cheek. "It's been a long time since the two of you were alone together. Too long. And, Evan, you
will
stay for dinner. At least." In another few seconds the two of them were gone.

"Well," said Dennis. "Come in. Let's sit down."

He followed his father through the entry and the spacious living room down a short hall into a baronial den paneled with oak. Evan was relieved when Dennis did not sit behind the massive carved desk, but instead sat on a leather couch, beckoning his son to seat himself on the other end. At least, Evan thought, we're not on opposite sides of the room. That must mean something.

"I'm glad you're out," Dennis said, crossing both his legs and his arms.

"I thought you would be."

"I never wanted you to go."

"I know. You screamed like hell when I told you."

"Do you blame me? We had other plans for you."

"They weren't my plans."

"You never wanted to go in the Marines."

"It was the only way out."

"Out from what?"

"From the prep schools, from the college you picked for me. It was the only thing I figured I could pick for myself."

"It was a waste. A waste of two years."

Evan barked a laugh. "How do you know it was a waste? You've barely
spoken
to me in two years. Two Christmases ago, that was all. When I came to see you in New Orleans? Even then we hardly said a word to each other." He sighed, and slumped back in the couch. The leather creaked under his weight. "Look, Dad, I didn't come here to fight. We fought enough." He looked into his father's eyes. "And I always knew I could never win. I could only run away." He smiled gently. "How can anyone hope to beat the emperor?"

Dennis looked away, and Evan was again struck with how his father had aged. "I'm not the emperor anymore." He turned back to Evan, who was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't want to fight either. I've missed you terribly. I did write to you . . ."

"I know. I got the letters."

"You didn't write back."

"There wasn't anything to say."

"You could have told me what you were doing —"

"That's not what I mean. I didn't have anything . . . to say to you." He smiled. "No subtext."

Dennis did not smile back. "So. What are you going to do now?"

"Why? Do you have plans for me? College?"

"Not if you don't want to. It's your life."

"Well. I'm glad you finally realize that." Evan sighed and put his head against the cool leather back of the couch. "I don't have any plans, not really. Thought I'd just move around, see the country." He smiled. "Since you never took me with you on the road."

"I suppose I should have," Dennis said.

"It was what I wanted most of all — to be with you." He cleared his throat and corrected himself. "To be on the road."

"Why not now, then?"

He shifted his head to look at his father. "Now?"

"We really could use you. We have no ASM, since Tommy . . . you heard about it?"

"How could I help but? You have a way of staying in the public eye.”

“Work with us, Evan. Stay here."

"I see you haven't lost the imperial 'We.'"

"I didn't mean that — I meant the family. We have one, you know. Robin and Sid and John, Donna,
Marvella
— there's a togetherness here, and I'd like you to be a part of it. I do love you, you know —"

"Come on, Dad . . ." He felt embarrassed. He could not remember his father telling him that, although he was sure that he must have, years ago.

"I do, Evan. I only ever wanted what I thought was best for you. Maybe I made mistakes —"

Evan laughed uncomfortably. "Maybe is right."

Dennis turned pale at the rebuke. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Dad, you never hurt me. I mean, I always knew you had my best interests at heart. Damn thing is, most of the time you were right." He shook his head slowly. "The service was one of
my
mistakes."

"How could you know that asthma would kick up? . . ."

"It wasn't just asthma . . ." Evan's voice trailed off as he remembered the humiliation of standing in front of his squad, trying to speak, to command, the terrifying inability to fill his lungs with air, while the others watched with a mixture of bemusement, pity, and contempt.

"What, Evan?"

He heard his father's voice as if from far away, and twisted his head as if to clear it of the memories. "Nothing. Never mind, nothing important." He stood up and began to move around the room. He felt like a caged animal, and knew he must look like one too. "I can't stay here, Dad. Thanks for the invitation, but I can't."

"Why not?" Dennis's voice was pleading. It was a sharp contrast to the father he had known before, the father who would not have accepted an answer that did not please him, and it nearly weakened Evan's resolve.

"It . . . the time's not right, things, the situation, I just . . . need to be by myself," he said weakly.

Dennis sat there, his eyes large with sorrow. "Stay the night," he said at last. "Have dinner. Stay the night, maybe longer. Could you do that?"

"I . . . I guess so, yes."

"If you need money —"

"I don't." It was true. The severance from the Corps would see him through for a few months.

"Well . . . if you do, ever . . .” Dennis left it unfinished. "We have a guest suite down the hall. You'll be comfortable there . . . for as long as you like." Evan didn't like the implication.

"Just for tonight," he said.

~ * ~

After Sid helped him get settled in, Evan decided to take his suggestion and inspect the building complex. Evan had liked exploring theatres ever since he was old enough to walk. He liked the quietness of them, the emptiness of the vast spaces. Most of all, he liked the absence of people.

He had been exposed to crowds ever since he could remember, and he had hated them, had seen them as a protoplasmic mass with bulging eyes and reaching arms, shaking papers like guns toward his father and him, wanting autographs, a word, a handshake, as though celebrity was something contagious, and fame could be spread with a touch. His father never understood Evan's aversion to the mob, those adulatory throngs who treated Dennis, that strong and distant man whom he seldom saw, as a king. He merely accepted the acclaim and the flattery as due him. And, like a king, he had not so much fathered Evan as commanded him.

As the years passed, Evan grew used to obeying. His favorite times were when he was alone, when the crowds were dispersed, when the boarding school term was ended and he was home in the house in Beverly Hills with just his father and, best of all, Sid. It was Sid who made life with his father bearable, who acted like the brother or close friend Evan never really had.

Evan did not remember his mother, who had killed herself when he was two. She had at least had the good sense to send the toddler to stay with friends before she had downed her
Seconal-Drambuie
cocktail. When he went to live with his father, he had had a nanny, despite the fact that Dennis was not working with any regularity. As soon as he was old enough, he went away to boarding schools, and saw his father only on holidays and during the summers. The revival of
A Private Empire
took place the same year that Evan entered puberty, the result being that just when he needed a father's guidance and advice most, his father disappeared almost totally from his life.