SYNTHESIS
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Chapter 15 - "Guardian"

Near the end of the flight, perhaps fortified by sleep, Olivia seemed to regain some spirit and joined them at the window as the Airbus A350 did a long slow turn around Manhattan on the approach to Newark, and they pointed out the sites to her.

"There is 'Liberty Enlightening the World,'" Olivia said suddenly, pointing to the statue.

"Do you know who created it?" Bobby asked, since she knew the true name of the Statue of Liberty, and she answered swiftly, "Of course! Frédéric Bartholdi, and the framework was by Monsieur Eiffel, of the tower," prompting a little smile from him.

"Will we visit her someday?" was Olivia's next query, and they promised they would, on one of their biweekly trips to see Aunt Lizzie, before the flight attendant sternly told them to return to their seats.

Once off the jetway, walking flanked by both of them, clutching the stuffed fox in one arm and holding fast to Bobby's hand, Olivia stopped short at the sight of the tall man in the uniform with his cap tucked under his arm, his red hair clearly visible, standing next to the gate agent's kiosk, but Bobby and Alex both smiled.

"I see they sent you back for us, Lieutenant McConnell. I take it no connecting flight to Hartford?"

"I'm to drive you and the family directly home, Agent Goren," McConnell said with a quick smile, then asked more seriously, "Sir, may I speak with you alone for a minute?"

Alex gave him a reproving look, but said quickly, as if it were her own idea, "Olivia, why don't we go to the ladies' room? It's a long ride back to Connecticut," and they disappeared.

"What's up?" Bobby said.

With a jerk of his chin, McConnell indicated someone over his shoulder, a Black woman holding several bulging file folders in one arm, an unquiet expression on her face.

"Ah, already." Bobby sighed. "Not a surprise. Let's say I expected someone from DCF, but not at the airport."

"DCF?"

"State of Connecticut Department of Children and Families. She has the look. Let me stroll over there and apologize to her."

"Apologize?" McConnell's eyebrows arched inquisitively.

Without explanation, Bobby turned to walk away, then pivoted and hissed, "What's her name?"

"Ruth Dunbar," McConnell answered, still puzzled.

Bobby put on his best face, but rounded his shoulders and slowed his walk, so when he approached Ms. Dunbar he already looked contrite. "Good afternoon, Ms. Dunbar. I'm Robert Goren," and held out his hand. "I want to take this opportunity to apologize."

As he'd hoped, this temporarily pacified her. Dunbar had a sharp-featured oval face with shrewd, expressive eyes, her dark hair falling to her shoulders in a loose wave, a woman about his age but only slightly taller than Alex's five-two, dressed in a red power suit and low-heeled burgundy-tone shoes. Her handshake was firm, her expression stern, and before she could collect herself, he continued, "My wife and I are perfectly aware we have 'jumped the line,' but we want you to know this wasn't our idea. We expected this process to take months, but we were...overruled, as it were...told when we left Paris that Miss Pepin would be traveling with us. We were slightly...disturbed. We expected more time to prepare for such a big responsibility. On the other hand, departing so quickly removed Olivia from a bad situation. But we know other children are in worse circumstances, and we'll do our best to cooperate so you can go back to others who need you more."

She tilted her head upward to look him in the eye and he gave her the most earnest look he could manage in return; since he was still uncomfortable with the situation, it wasn't hard to manage. She appeared to soften a bit, and gratefully he caught sight of Alex returning and arched eyebrows at her, quickly glancing at Dunbar, then at Olivia.

Alex understood immediately. She said something to Olivia, who nodded, then they stopped before the social worker, Alex affably extending her hand. "I'm Alexandra Eames, and this is Olivia. Pleased to meet you, Ms.–" and Bobby supplied, "Dunbar."

Olivia, still clutching her fox, responded with every bit of Nicole Wallace's sang froid ever absorbed. She loosed Alex's hand, curtsied, then said in a clear voice, extending her right hand, "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Dunbar. I am Mignon Olivia Pepin, and you must be the social worker Mama and Papa said would speak to me. You are to make sure they take care of me properly, yes?"

Alex had to bite her lip to keep from smiling and she wondered how Bobby kept his face so impassive, for Dunbar was clearly disarmed, although she recovered immediately, sharing a handshake with Olivia. "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Olivia, and, yes, that's why I'm here."

"I'm sure you're required to be, but I assure you my Maman would not have chosen Mr. and Mrs. Goren as guardians for me if she did not trust them," Olivia said coolly.

Future historian, nothing, Alex thought. Diplomatic Corps for sure.

She now caught the amusement growing in Bobby's eyes. To divert himself, he squatted so he could chat with Olivia face to face. "Olivia, see that set of empty chairs?" pointing to a row of plastic bucket seats about twelve feet away.

"Yes, Papa," she said, nodding.

"Take your fox—what have you named your fox, by the way?"

"Captain," she replied. "After the fox in The Secret Garden."

"I like it. Your mama was a captain once, you know. Please take Captain and sit in the seat at the very end of the row while we talk to Ms. Dunbar. Please do not move from the seat until we call you or come to get you. Do you want my Kindle so you can read? I have some Oz books."

"No, Papa. I will sit and watch," she said serenely and did so.

Now Ruth Dunbar smiled at them as Bobby rose, shrugging and smiling back, and Alex grinned as she said, "This is a child who has spent much of her childhood with adults–"

"–or with older children at school because she's a fifth grader doing seventh grade work," supplied Bobby.

"And as you can tell," finished Alex dryly, "she's very smart, and has no problem speaking her mind."

And now Ruth Dunbar laughed, her expression friendlier. "I spent most of my time waiting reading Nicole Wallace's dossier, sent to me by the FBI—the redacted version, of course. She reminds me quite a bit of her mother."

"Her father was a noted French government figure for many years, so she's the best of both of them," Bobby said wryly. "I don't relish the day she's of college age and I have to duel with her on some subject."

"She'll be running rings around both of us by then," Alex added with a shake of her head.

"And you're still sure you want to do this?" Dunbar said, with a wry smile.

"Terrified out of my mind," Alex responded, but there was wistfulness in her voice, and she rested her hand over her heart, "but we don't have any choice now."

Bobby finished, "She's already climbed into our hearts and taken up residence." Then he looked across at Olivia, sitting quietly watching the other travelers, "We also know this is probably the calm before the storm, that at some point the enormity of what's happened is going to hit. We've been recommended a pediatric therapist for her."

Dunbar opened a notebook and fished a pen from her blazer pocket. "The name?"

"Phyllis Allyson in Waterbury." Bobby added, "Recommended by Kashvi Chaudry, out of Albany—our therapist."

Dunbar nodded, noting that name as well. "I would like to talk to Dr. Chaudry, if I may," she added, but neither of them interpreted it as a request.

"Feel free," said Bobby, and Alex added, "Anytime."

"It's only fair," Bobby concluded. "We called her before we made this decision."

"Why don't we finish talking in the car?" Dunbar suggested. "The lieutenant says I get a free ride back to New Haven."

"Not a problem. Larry!" he called, at the same time beckoning with his left forefinger to Olivia, who jumped up and trotted to them. McConnell, who had unobtrusively waited behind Olivia, appeared beside her.

"It's about time we started home," Alex said cheerfully, "or our house sitter is going to think we've foisted our pets off on her."

Bobby added in a propositioning tone, "Larry, do you think Miss Olivia could ride up front and get the tour-de-luxe from you?"

McConnell caught on immediately and gave Olivia a nod and a big smile. "You mean I get company up front for a change? How'd you like the exclusive tour, kid?"

Olivia regarded him solemnly. "Is there a tour?" she asked, her interest piqued. "Like at the Louvre?"

"The McConnell special, good for today only. Besides, no one ever thinks the driver gets lonesome. We can talk, too, if you want," McConnell said jauntily. "Hey, I don't suppose I could take your hand? This place gets really crowded. Always feel like I'm going to get lost."

"Yes, you may. Papa called you 'Larry'? Is your name Lawrence?"

"Got it in one."

"My half-brother's name is Laurent, you see," and the two walked toward the waiting tram, with Bobby, Alex, and Ruth Dunbar trailing behind. McConnell kept up informational chatter during the entire drive back to Connecticut; instead of cutting through the Bronx and New York City traffic, he headed north and bypassed the city entirely—"You're better off going to the city by train, Olivia"—traveling west of the Hudson River up Palisades Parkway and 9W, while Ruth Dunbar spoke in low tones with Bobby and Alex in the back seat about schools, social contacts, and periodic inspections, until McConnell gave a whoop.

"Here we go, Olivia," he said, just as he turned the car on the approach to the Mario Cuomo Bridge, "one of the most beautiful views in the state of New York. This, little one, is the Tappan Zee," and they could see Olivia sit up straight in her seat, looking up and down the deep blue length of the Hudson River as the car drove across the 3-mile span. The sky arched above the river, vivid blue partially obscured by cumulus clouds, and quite a few cabin cruisers and other water craft were scattered north and south of the span of the bridge.

"It is beautiful, like the Seine. But 'Tappan Zee' is Dutch, isn't it?" Olivia asked like a little owl when they had gained the east side of the river.

"It is," McConnell answered. "The Lenni-Lenape lived here originally, one of the Algonquian nations. They farmed and also hunted and fished, living in wigwams, not tipis like you might see on television. The Dutch came through next. This area of New York is where Washington Irving set his stories—have you read 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow' or 'Rip Van Winkle' at school?"

"No, sir."

"They're very famous short stories. I'm sure your father has a copy of them in his library—I hear he has a humdinger. Washington Irving lived just south of here—you can visit his home, Sunnyside—and he was the person who originally told Americans tales about old-fashioned English Christmas customs–"

"Someone's channeling you, Bobby," Alex teased.

He merely gave a deep breath and smiled at her, "Eames," he said, Dunbar's presence notwithstanding, "we're almost home," and she squeezed his hand. Home. She took a deep breath and inhaled deeply as if she could smell Milbury in the distance.

They were in reality still more than an hour's drive away and Olivia was half-asleep when McConnell finally drove past The Dark Crystal once more, then the four blocks to Courant Street. Tied to the streetlight at the corner, under which Alex and Bobby had danced the night they'd announced their engagement, was a big bunch of red, white, and blue balloons.

"Someone must be having a birthday party," said Alex drowsily—and then in the next minute she gasped.

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