The Housewife Assassin's Killer App (23 page)

Upstairs, I find Jack standing in the middle of the hallway. Like me, he doesn’t like what he hears: Mary sobbing.

“Jeff’s door is locked,” he says sadly. “So is Trisha’s.”
 

As I start for Mary’s door, Jack moves in behind me—but I hold up my hand to him. “Let me face her alone. She’s mad at me, not you. If I make any headway, I’ll call you in.”

He frowns, but nods.

I enter into a darkened room. Mary must feel my presence, because she says, “Go away.”

“Please, Mary, give me an opportunity to explain.”

She sits upright. “Why? Do you think I’ll believe what you tell me ever again?”

I sit down beside her. “Do you want to know the truth about him—about us?”

“I know what I see. He left us. You hate him for that. You love…Mr. Craig. And all of you lied to us.”

I lay my hand over hers. “You’re right. About all of it. Even the lying. I’d always hoped I’d have a chance to tell you before…before he came back into your lives.”

She shrugs. “I think I always knew on some level that…that Mr. Craig wasn’t really my father.”

“Wasn’t he, though? From the day he came into your life—our lives—wasn’t he always there for you?”

“Yes…I guess.” She stares down at our hands. “We went to a funeral for Jack Craig, didn’t we? A couple of years ago, right around Christmas time.”

I nod. “We thought he’d died in an accident.”

“My father tried to kill him.” It’s not a question, but a declaration.

Again, I nod. “Your father—he’s not a nice man.”

Finally, her eyes meet mine. “Why? What has he done?”

“He worked for our government. He went on long trips, overseas to—to spy on some really bad men.”

Mary lets this sink in. “Was that when…when Mr. Craig moved in with us?”

“Yes.”
 

“Mr. Clancy,” Mary says.

“Yes. Mr. Clancy asked me to pretend that Jack was your father, in the hope that the bad guys would come looking for him.”

“Did they?” Mary’s eyes grow big.
 

“Your father came. You see, he was the bad guy.”

Mary eases back into the stack of pillows behind her. I can imagine it’s not easy hearing that about your father.
 

Then again, what divorced mother hasn’t spoken ill about her ex to her child?
 

Granted, not all exes are known terrorists.

“On one of his missions, he made the decision that he was on the wrong side,” I explain. “Maybe he was right in leaving us then. Maybe it was his hope that I—and that you—would never find out the truth. But…when Jack moved in with us, it forced his hand.”

“He hates Jack.” Mary frowns at this realization.

“Jack can handle it. It’s why he’ll never leave us.” I lean back into the cloud of pillows with her. “That is, as long as you still accept him.”

A slow tear makes its way down Mary’s cheek. “I…I don’t know yet how I feel about him. I feel deceived by both of you. And I feel…I feel disloyal to my real father.” The pillow we share sags when she turns to face me, placing us almost nose to nose. “I wanted to believe so much that he was my dad. You’d never admit that he was gone, and we had no pictures of him, so I had to think very hard about what he looked like. But I know now I was only pretending to remember him. I lied to myself too.” She’s choking on her sobs. “Then, when—when Jack appeared and when you didn’t say anything about it, the few things I remembered didn’t seem real to me anymore.” She turns her back to me. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for that, Mom.”
 

She’s blaming herself.

I start to point that out, but Mary shushes me. “Yes, I know what he did was wrong. But, at the time, he must have felt it was the right thing to do, out of love. And he loves us enough to come back to us, despite how you feel about him—and about Jack. So, I guess I feel I owe him an honest attempt to try to love him again.”

She’s right. She owes Carl that much.

But what if Carl breaks her heart yet again?

I’ll make sure he won’t.

I rise from the bed. “Would you mind if Jack came in to see you?”

She doesn’t turn around. “I…I don’t think it’s a good idea. Please tell him that I’m very tired and that I’ll see him tomorrow.”

She feels so guilty that she is distancing herself from him
.

I want to say something, but at this stage, nothing will change her mind.

Her childhood memories of Carl are weak. With Jack, the memories are strong. Strong enough, I hope, that despite anything Carl may say about him, she will realize the depth of Jack’s love and adoration of her.

Only time will tell.
 

Chapter 13

Virus

For the most part, we use the term “virus” to describe a microscopic infectious agent that self-replicates within the cells of its host. Viruses cause illnesses like colds, flus, warts and some sexually transmitted diseases.

In Computerese, “virus” has a similar definition, as it describes self-replicating code, planted illegally in a computer that can shut down the machine, or for that matter, any connected networks.
 

In any regard, viruses are not fun.
 

To avoid computer viruses, don’t open emails from strangers, let alone file attachments from anyone you don’t know.

To avoid viruses that can affect your body, wash your hands often, and stay out of large crowds, elevators, leper colonies and orgies.

In other words, avoid all unnecessary contact, human or digital.

To play it safe, stay in bed with your head under the covers.
 

I wake up to find Trisha in my bed. She is crouched over Jack, staring down at his face as he sleeps.
 

When she realizes that I see her, she whispers, “Daddy won’t go away, will he?”

I sit up and pull her into my lap. “No. Never,” I promise her with a whisper. “He will always be here with us. He will always love us. He will always love you.”

“Some kids at school have two dads—an old one and a new one,” she tells me. “I know a girl with two dads and no mom, too.” She reaches over to stroke Jack’s cheek. “I only want one daddy—this Daddy. Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course.” Joy fills my heart, inflating it to near-bursting.
 

Trisha frowns. “If the other daddy moves in, will it make us Mormons?”

I shake my head, confused. “Why would you think that?”

Trisha shrugs. “If a husband has two wives, can’t a wife have two husbands?”

There it is—my situation in a nutshell.
 

I snort so loudly that Trisha can’t help but giggle, which makes me chuckle too. “Honey, Mormons don’t live that way anymore,” I gasp, but I don’t know if she hears me.

In fact, we’re laughing so hard that we fall off the bed.

Jack bolts straight up. He stares at us through one eye. “What the heck?”
 

Trisha crawls back into bed in order to give him a hug. “It’s okay for Mommy to have two husbands, but I only want one father—you.”

Jack holds her tight. He is smiling, but there is a dark sadness in his eyes.
 

I know what he’s thinking:

One down and two to go.

“So, like, this Carl Stone guy is the head of the U.S. Intelligence community,” Jeff declares the next morning, as he plops down at the kitchen banquette.
 

Aunt Phyllis looks up from her pancakes. “Well, what do you know, he’s not just some bum on the lam! Still, I’m surprised the guy can hold down a job at all, what with the way he disappears on people.”

Jack chokes on his coffee, but he doesn’t say a word.

“Yeah, well, he got this cushy spy job despite being suspected of terrorism.” Jeff turns to me. “Did you know about that?”

Boy oh boy, did I
.
“Yep. It’s one of the reasons I felt it best that he stay away from you.”

“You’re making it all up, Jeff!” Mary looks up from her pancakes. Despite a frosty nod good morning to Jack, Aunt Phyllis, and me when she came down for breakfast, this is the first she’s spoken.
 

“No, I’m not! It’s all right there, on the Internet.”

“Only idiots believe everything they read on the ’net,” Mary says coldly.

Jeff sticks out his tongue at her. “There were a slew of real news articles on him—around the time he was appointed by President Chiffray,” he insists.

“He knows Janie’s daddy?” Trisha says through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Yeah. Supposedly they’re tight bros,” Jeff proclaims.

Jack shifts his gaze in my direction and mouths
I told you so.

I shake my head adamantly at him.

“But only one journalist picked up on the terrorist angle,” Jeff continues. “He writes for something called the Clark Kent League.”

At the same time, Jack and I bolt up in our seats.
 

Operation Clark Kent.

Mary drops her fork with a clatter. “Big deal! So some lousy little website is making up bullshit about him—”
 

“Mary, watch your mouth,” I warn her.

Her eyes slice me like daggers before she turns her wrath on Jeff. “What about the
New York Times
? What about the
Washington Post
?”

“They aren’t part of the free press anymore,” Jeff declares. “Their editors have to answer to corporate stockholders. Their management peddles influence with Washington insiders—”

“You’re being mean about him because you can’t remember him!” Mary points upstairs. “He’s the one who left you all those baseball trophies in your room, remember?”

“He left me his old trophies—so what?” Jeff shouts. “Where was he for all my ballgames? I have my own trophies, thanks to…
Jack
!”
 

The look of appreciation he exchanges with the man I love is one I’ll always remember.

Mary glares at her brother. Still, she can’t argue with the truth. Instead, she shrugs and mutters under her breath, “You’re so full of shit.”

“I said that’s enough, Mary!” I slam the table with my fist. “Or else I’m grounding you for the entire weekend!”

“You can’t,” Mary proclaims supremely. “Father will be here any moment to pick us up. He called my cell, right before breakfast. He said he’d like to take us to the Santa Monica Pier, then to eat pizza, then to see the newest
Avenger
movie. In fact, there he is now.” She points to the back door.

Carl knocks once before opening the door. “What a beautiful morning! Everyone ready to go?”

I toss down my napkin and head for the door, pulling him outside with me. “How dare you! Why did you call Mary instead of me?”
 

“After the greeting I got yesterday?” He shakes his head. “Not on your life!”

“No one told you to break and enter my home. You could have waited on the front stoop,” I say coolly. “For all I know, you went and planted booby-traps all over the place.”

He frowns. “My kids live here too, remember? Look, we can stand out here all morning and give your nosy neighbors something to talk about, or I can hit the road with the children. Your choice.”

Hit the road with the children…

My heart lurches in my chest at the thought of him taking them away from me forever.

He must realize this because he mutters, “Don’t worry. I’ll have them home in time for dinner. When it comes to the kids, I’m sticking to the letter of the law.” Noting my questioning stare, he adds, “I’d advise you to do the same. Don’t forget, custody is a two-way street. There are just as many unfit mothers as there are deadbeat dads.”

What the hell does he mean by that?

He opens the door again. “Come on, boy and girls, let’s hit the pier!”

Mary already has her purse in hand, and is walking our way. Jeff and Trisha haven’t moved. They’re waiting for some signal from me that it’s okay.

I nod toward Carl. “Have fun, children. But stick together, and take your cell phones with you.”
In case you have the urge to run away and need me to come get you.