Chapter 1 #3
"I was home with you and Nicky—running you to practices and lessons. And that's where I wanted to be. I know you don't believe this, but when your father came home, he wanted to know what you and Nicky were doing."
"You never talked about work?"
"We talked." Helen looked up and shook her head. "I didn't know your father's role. I knew he worked for the CIA."
"I know. That's why I can't understand why?—"
"Why didn’t I ask questions?" Helen shook her head again. "You think it's because I suspected he was involved in something nefarious. I didn't. But I understood that his work required secrecy and caution—just as yours does."
"I don't keep things from Cass."
Helen nodded once. "That's not entirely true, though, is it?"
"Nothing that matters."
"Mm. Not every relationship is like yours with Cassidy."
Alex sighed. "I didn't mean to?—"
Helen held up a hand. "I loved your father. And it pains me that you still believe he didn't care for you."
"I don't think he knew me. And I'm not sure he wanted to know me."
"He knew you. You don't want to admit how well he knew you."
Alex bristled.
"You keep digging—searching to learn something about your father that will support what you believe about him."
"He was the broker for the Collaborative, Mom. He moved money. Blood money."
"Is that what you think?"
"It's what I know."
"Is that so?" Helen asked.
"He helped John build an underground control center, Mom. Why? What were they doing?"
"I don't know."
"You still believe he was trying to do the right thing," Alex said.
"I think people have different ideas about what the right thing is," Helen replied.
Alex bristled.
"That might be uncomfortable to hear, but it's true.
" Helen pointed to a stack of papers bearing Carecom's logo.
"You're sitting here at this table, rummaging through your father's old records.
What are you doing? Are you looking to understand what he did at Carecom?
Or are you searching to create a narrative that will support your beliefs? "
"I want to know the truth."
"Mm."
"What?" Alex asked.
Helen shrugged and sipped her coffee.
"Mom... Please."
"I can't offer you what you want, Alexis. I don't think it's a coincidence that you're sitting here looking at those files the day before you leave to spend a weekend with Dylan."
"What does my time with Dylan have to do with this?"
"You tell me," Helen said.
"Dylan has been combing through Carecom's records. He wants to show me what he's been working on. I just want to be prepared."
"For what Dylan might show you?" Helen asked.
"Or what he might ask me."
Helen nodded, lifted her mug, and sipped her coffee.
"You don't believe me," Alex said.
"I believe you."
Alex sat back in the chair and folded her arms.
Helen set her coffee aside again. She wondered if she should have talked more with Alex about Nicolaus.
Over the years, she had worked to rebuild trust and closeness with her daughter, something they hadn’t had since Alex was little.
Talking about Alex’s feelings toward her father always felt risky, like stepping onto thin ice.
Still, sometimes the subject couldn’t be avoided, and Helen thought maybe she should have tried harder to talk about it.
"I'm not sure what you want me to say," Helen said.
"Something... Anything."
"All right. I think if you step back for a moment, you might find what you fear most is discovering your father wasn't the demon you've created."
"I don't think he was a demon."
"He's your demon," Helen said.
Alex grumbled.
"I don't talk to you about your dad. Maybe I should. But, Alexis, you don't listen to what I say. And even if you do, you don't believe me. I can't change your mind about your dad. And I can't change what you feel. I think you forget those two things are inextricably linked."
"Of course they're linked," Alex said.
"I don't condone some of the things your father did and said—particularly things he said to you."
Alex closed her eyes.
"And I can't pretend I understand why he shut you out."
"I think that's evident."
"Do you?" Helen asked.
"I was his greatest disappointment."
"I know why you feel that way."
"Because it's true."
Helen watched as Alex battled back mounting tears.
"Alexis," she said softly. "We all have demons. All of us. And we all have questions about our parents. Who we were to them. How they've shaped our lives. If you want to know—really want to know what I think?—"
"I do."
"I think your dad was afraid of disappointing you."
Alex chuckled.
"You said you wanted to know what I think," Helen reminded her.
"He was pissed when I went to West Point. He ignored my sexuality. Then he made Cass into my friend. He hated that I worked for the government. What did I ever do right?"
It always amazed Helen how talking about a parent could transform a successful, stable adult into a wounded, insecure child.
"Alex," she said. "Stop this."
Tears filled Alex's eyes.
"You are so much like him sometimes."
Alex shook her head.
"Smart. Determined. And scared to death that you will fail the people you love most."
Alex wiped her eyes and looked down at the table.
"That's why you're sitting here. You're so afraid of losing Dylan."
Alex looked up, fear painting her irises.
"I see it. More than even Cassidy can. You're not worried about what Dylan might learn about your father or his. You're worried that he'll uncover something about you—about your work. Something that will shatter his opinion of you."
Alex pinched the bridge of her nose.
"That's something we all fear, sweetheart."
Alex removed her hand and looked at her mother.
"Look around you," Helen said. "Look at Cassidy. She had her father on a pedestal for most of her life. It seems like that pedestal was ripped out from underneath them both."
"Because it was."
"Mm. Was it? He hurt her. But, Alex, Cassidy is still the little girl who worships her dad when Jim is in the room. It's why his choices hurt so much. And Cassidy wants to discover something that lets her have her hero back."
Alex took a breath. "I never wanted Dylan close to this."
"Your father never wanted you close to it, either."
"Not the same," Alex said.
"Mm. I'm sure there are things you can discover about your father that will reinforce your beliefs.
I also think you'll likely find information that challenges those beliefs.
And Dylan? He might learn something about your decisions that surprises him—maybe that he disagrees with.
But he will still love you. I'm sure he's trying to connect to his father. That doesn't mean you aren't his hero."
"I don't feel very heroic, Mom."
"I know."
Alex sighed. "I owe you an apology."
Helen shook her head.
"It's not fair for me to ask you to betray Dad's trust."
Helen smiled. "You may not believe this, Alexis, but there isn't anything I'm hiding from you about your father."
"I believe you."
"I love you," Helen said. "And so did your dad."
Alex shook her head.
"You can't change the past," Helen said. "You can't get time back. Don't spend your time fearing what already happened."
"Sometimes that's the only way to project what might happen next."
"Be careful about guessing the future," Helen said.
"I'm not guessing, Mom. I'm just trying to?—"
"Guess?"
Alex chuckled despite herself.
"It's healthy to anticipate the unexpected. To keep your eyes open and prepare for what might happen."
"That's what I'm doing."
Helen nodded. "I'm sure that's true, but your feelings and your fears can cloud your vision," she said. "And feelings and fears—as much as they may be justified, and they are real—they often don't represent the truth."
Helen reached over and patted Alex's hand.
"If you look long enough and hard enough, you'll always find something that justifies your vision, even if it isn't as clear as you believe."
Helen pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.
"Where are you going?" Alex asked.
"I'm going to sit in the living room and finish my coffee."
"You don't need to leave, Mom."
"I'm not leaving. I'm just giving you some space. Think about what I said."
Alex watched her mother walk out of the room. She looked down at the papers on the table and shook her head.
Most of her life, Alex believed fear made her more alert. Maybe that was true. But as she looked at Carecom’s records, thinking about her father and the path Dylan was on, she wondered if fear had really protected them, or just given them somewhere to hide from the truth.
"What were you doing, Dad?"
Claire paced at the bottom of the stairs.
"Claire," Rose called gently.
Claire spun around. "Oh... Hey. Did you come in through the garage?"
"I did." Rose glanced up the stairs. "I'm sure El will be down in a minute."
"Right. Yeah. Of course, she will."
"Come into the living room," Rose said.
The sound of Ian's giggling filtered from upstairs.
Claire chuckled as she followed Rose into the next room. "He's been following El around all morning," she said. "I don't think he wants us to leave."
"It's normal. Cassie was that way when her dad and I would leave together.”
Claire sat in a large recliner across from her mother.
"Where's Jim?"
"He was sleeping when I left," Rose said.
Claire's brow furrowed.
"He's all right, Claire. He was up late reading."
"Reading? Like a book?"
"That's how it appeared to me."
"What kind of book?"
Rose smiled. Everything about Jim fascinated Claire.
It made her think of Cassidy as a child, always wanting to follow Jim around, peek at the book he was reading, tilt her head, and ask questions.
Why was he reading that book? If Jim was in the garage building shelves or fixing the car, Cassidy would sit on the workbench and watch.
Some people might think Claire’s sudden interest in Jim’s activities was just her way of avoiding talking about why she felt nervous.
It was more than that.
"I didn't ask what he was reading," Rose replied.
"Oh."
"But he's always enjoyed historical novels. And he likes mysteries. So, my guess is it was something like that."
Claire nodded.
"Claire?"