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SYNTHESIS Epilog - "Thread"
They'd asked Russ to take what was left of the cake to hand out at Big Brothers the next day, so there was little left of the impromptu party. The balloons, too, could wait; they'd take them down on their walk next morning. Instead they helped Olivia unpack her all but one of her suitcases and put the clothing away in appropriate drawers or in the wardrobe, and the dozen books she'd brought along were shelved in the bookcase headboard. Alex apologized, "Our bedroom closet isn't very big--do you mind if I share yours?" Olivia, heavy-eyed now, murmured, "That's okay, Mama." Alex left their own suitcases and Olivia's final one in the middle of the living room. "We can," she said with a yawn, "get to them tomorrow." Bobby turned on the ten o'clock news and he and Alex collapsed on the sofa, after settling Olivia in Bobby's big Laz-Y-Boy armchair with Alex’s laptop. Alex logged back into the wifi, then smoothed the hair on her head. "Why don't you send Laurent a note saying you've arrived? I think he'd like that. You can use my e-mail account for now and I'll set up one for you tomorrow so you can use your own laptop." "Oui," the child said absently and in a minute they could hear her tapping at the keys. In the meantime the news ended and the nightly repeat of Jeopardy came on. Bobby missed half the questions and finally leaned his head back, dully listening to Ken Jennings posing Final Jeopardy. When Alex yawned for the tenth time during the end of the show, she finally said, "I surrender. I'm pooped." "I've never been so ready for bed in my life," Bobby agreed, looking exhausted. Olivia said nothing, since she had already fallen asleep in the armchair, lulled by Bandit's quiet burbling. Alex hated to wake her, but the little girl struggled back to the world, and was sent into the bathroom with her night things, saying she could bathe herself. But a fidgety Alex remained with her, turning on the shower and adjusting the nozzle, which was out of Olivia's reach, then sat on the toilet lid chatting with her after she'd showered, as she brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back with a white headband. Wearing a little pansy-sprigged white nightgown and purple slippers, she looked like a department store holiday ad come to life. Then it came time to pull the spread back and tuck her between soft green sheets and under a blue blanket. She sank her head into new feather pillows and gazed sleepily at them as they stood over her. Alex had set a plastic glass with a built-in straw (another Patty purchase) on a bureau scarf (another Lizzie purchase) on the night table, and there was also a little touch lamp (Lizzie again) there in case Olivia wanted to read (the night table came with two shelves for books underneath it as well). "Do you need a night light?" Bobby asked. "No," said Olivia drowsily. "Is there anything else you want before bed?" Olivia shook her head and yawned. "You'll call if you need us?" Bobby again, reluctant to leave. "Promise," and Olivia rolled over on her right side. "We've been dismissed," Alex mouthed to Bobby, whispered, "Good night," switched off the lamp, and they retreated from the room, leaving the door minutely ajar. Bobby let Sam out in the back yard again for a few minutes while he waited on the porch while Alex gave Bandit scratches under his chin, a long session to make up for having been away a week. Once Sam was settled back on his dog bed, and Bandit had been covered up and the lights turned off, they took refuge in their own bedroom, staring at each other. It's like the night before our wedding, all over again," she said numbly. "Well," he responded with a tentative smile, "that turned out okay," and gave her a long kiss. "Am I delusional," she asked softly after they paused for breath, "or did I see Penelope in that crowd?" "She didn't stay very long—she wanted to check in with the three of us," Bobby explained. "I talked to her for ten minutes, then she gave Ms. Dunbar her card and said to call her if DCF needed to know anything about us. She'll be back tomorrow. She said we needed to spend the evening with Olivia." "What's up?" Alex straightened, looking wary. "Nothing to worry about. I knew she was coming; Marc Thuringer texted me just as we arrived at the airport, but Ms. Dunbar appeared and I didn't have the chance. First, Penelope's been on the phone since she called us, to any State Department contact she had, and reamed them out for...how did she say she put it?...'screwing the shit out of one of my best agents, his wife, and a nine-year-old child' just to reap benefits for clandestine arrangements between the Department of Energy and Duplantix." "So you were right!" "Looks like it." "And she actually said...those words?" Alex's eyes were dancing. "You've never heard Penelope when she's angry. It is an awesome event—so long as you're not on the receiving end." The smile flitting over his lips faded. "Then she pulled out the big guns and called Nora Loughran. It appears Agent Loughran knows where almost as many 'bodies are buried' as Harry Cavanaugh. Let's say that any therapy Olivia needs will now be paid for by the State Department." And then he took both her hands, "And...please be surprised when she tells you this tomorrow...Nora told her that Cavanaugh has been offered the choice of retirement at half-pension or a very messy, very public hearing for employee abuse and misuse of authority. Apparently he tried to bluff his way out of it, until my name and Cristina Ruiz' name both came up. The prosecution has eight women and five men—including me—ready to testify. She's fairly certain Harry's going to pick the side of caution." Alex's eyes were glittering. "I almost wish he wouldn't—but I wouldn't want you or Cris having to testify." Finally they prepared for bed, showering, medicating, brushing and flossing, as if it were just an ordinary night. An hour later found them lying in bed as they had the night before they'd been summoned to Paris, Bobby continuing the new forensics text by Dr. Gilbert Grissom ("How many books can one man write about insects in corpses?" she teased) and Alex reading the newest Craig Johnson. They heard Sam's uneasy, whimpering alert first. Then another sound came to their ears, a soft sobbing. "So it begins," Bobby said sorrowfully, putting his book aside. "I'll go." "All right," she said, but the moment he'd left the room she knew she couldn't stay behind, and only a minute later she was out of bed, too, standing in the doorway to Olivia's room. "–and there w-was Maman... and I-I r-ran to hug her...and I-I-I woke up," Olivia stammered between sobs, sitting up in her bed. Bobby was sitting at the edge of the bed in his faded Beatles t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, smoothing her hair. "My mom," he said slowly, "died fifteen years ago, I still miss her. But...as time goes on, Olivia, you'll remember the good things, too—the times your maman took you to the Louvre, and to the park, and when you went to Nice. And you'll be able to smile, and tell stories about her. It just takes time." Olivia shifted into a kneeling position and put her arms around him as far as she could reach, then said tearfully, "But it hurts now." To Alex's surprise, he pivoted to take Olivia in his arms. He hadn't done it yet as she had, only patted her or took her hand or at the most hugged her quickly and then let go. Alex had asked him why, and he'd said rather tensely that he didn't want people to think he was "that way"—as in the way Nicole's father had been in molesting her. She had finally said gently, "She's going to be your daughter, Bobby. You are allowed to hug her." He compounded the surprise by starting to sing. She'd heard Bobby sing to himself, sing along with favorite songs as everyone occasionally did, bop along to music, but she'd never heard him sing like this. His heart was in the words, and after a few lines she realized she knew the lyrics. "Nobody said that life is always fair. Alex stepped into the room, softly joining in: "Hold on tight 'cause life is touch and go, But never doubt if you're out of a limb, He smiled at her as he rocked Olivia, and as they continued to sing her tears abated, then stopped, only sniffling left, and she looked at them sleepily, her arms still around Bobby's neck, but her eyes growing heavier and heavier. "...When you feel lost, "Hold on tight 'cause life is touch and go, And she was asleep.
* "Touch and Go," ©1986 by Rupert Holmes.
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