Date: Sat, 14 Nov 2009 19:28:01 -0500
From: Tinnean <tinneantoo@embarqmail.com>
Subject: Chasing Rainbows Part 1

Notes: This is from Bryan Sebring's POV. Hondo was not released in DVD
format until 2005. To my knowledge, John Wayne and Louis L'Amour never gave
interviews about it. Well, not these particular interviews. Thanks to FD,
who's given me invaluable help regarding the DC area. Any gaffes are
strictly my own. Thank you also to Tim Mead and Jim for their watchful
eyes, and as always, to Gail.

Chasing Rainbows
Prologue


I'd never cared much for Edward Holmes. He'd often gotten by on the skill
and knowledge of better men, and he knew whose ass to kiss. Now he was
Director of Counter Intelligence, with his sights set on Director of the
CIA.

We Sebrings on the other hand - Anthony, Jefferson, our sister Portia, and
I - came from a long line of men and women who put our country's welfare
ahead of everything, often even family.

Perhaps that was why Holmes thought we brothers would fold our hands and do
nothing, accept it as part of our destiny, when we learned of his campaign
of petty annoyances against Portia's son, our nephew, Quinton Mann.

Perhaps he thought that because we were all of us in our so-called golden
years, the blood in our veins had become diluted, that age had dimmed our
mental acuity as well as our eyesight.

Holmes had always been an arrogant, overbearing son of a bitch. He'd never
struck me as being a stupid one.


Part 1 1958


The sound of the doorbell sliced through my head like an ice pick. I rolled
out of bed, instantly alert. I wasn't a field officer, but I had been
trained to protect myself. A gun was in my left fist as I peered cautiously
through the spy hole in my apartment door.

It was my oldest brother, Anthony.

I slid the gun into the back of my waistband, then rubbed a hand over my
face and hair, unlocked the door, and let him in. "Jesus, Tony." I scowled
at him, the adrenaline leaching out of my system. "Is there a national
crisis?"

"No."

"You've been drinking." I could smell alcohol on his breath.

"It's not like you to state the obvious."

"It's not like you to pay me a visit at... " I glanced at my wristwatch.
"... at 4:35 in the morning." I needed something to take my mind off the
fact that he was standing in front of me, his overcoat not doing a very
good job of disguising the fact that he hadn't changed out of his pajamas.

Tony didn't question the fact that in spite of the hour and that I had on
pajamas, I was wearing a watch. The only time I didn't wear one was when I
was in the bath.

He gazed around my tiny apartment. It had been a long time since he'd been
here, and even then he'd made sure he hadn't come alone. Jeff had
accompanied him, along with the young Naval lieutenant he was seeing at the
time.

"You weren't going anywhere, where you?"

"Not for another couple of hours. At least one of which I could have spent
sleeping."

"Sorry." He ran restless fingers through his hair. "I've done it, Bry."

"Oh?"

"I've introduced Portia to Nigel Mann."

It had been Father's plan to involve our baby sister in the family
business. Portia, lovely, delicate Portia, was aware of that and seemed to
have no objection.

She was unaware, however, that our father planned to match her with an
intelligence officer. Although she'd come home from her come-out in London
with a reputation as an ice princess, people were beginning to question the
fact that she was almost twenty-three and still unmarried.

Father wanted her married, but to someone who wouldn't distract her from
her job of breaking Russian codes for Project Venona. He chose Nigel Mann,
who worked for the CIA.

I was at Shadow Brook, the family farm in Maryland, that weekend, and the
four of us, Father, Tony, Portia, and I planned to go riding. Portia's
horse, however, threw a shoe, and she led the gelding back to the stable.

While we were waiting for her to return, I mentioned Mann to Father.

I'd read the reports of his missions while he'd been serving in Korea. I'd
also overheard a couple of the secretaries in my department who'd shown
some interest in his austere good looks complaining about him - not that he
crossed the line with them, but rather that he showed no inclination to do
so.

"Cold, you say?" A thin smile curved Father's lips.

"The man has ice water in his veins, Father."

"Does he appear to prefer men?" There was no distaste in his voice as might
have been expected considering the current administration. Jefferson had
shown a predilection toward his own sex since he'd reached puberty, had
never made any effort to hide it around the family, although in public he
was the epitome of discretion and was often seen with one beauty after
another on his arm. Mother and Father had long accepted the fact that they
would get no grandchildren from their second son.

"I'd say he has no preference."

"Asexual, then?" Father sounded even more pleased.

"If the man uses his prick for anything other than to piss, I'd be very
surprised."

"Then he should be perfect for Portia. Neither of them will be sidetracked
by sex." Something startled his horse, causing him to break into a
bone-jarring trot, and Father casually brought the brute under control. "I
want him vetted to the NSA. Anthony, you'll see to it that they come into
contact."

"Father, do you really think this is a good idea?" Tony's eyes were hooded.

I was startled to hear my older brother object. He was the one who usually
backed Father to the hilt.

But then, Portia was his favorite sibling. Not that I minded, even though
before her birth, that position had been mine. As the only girl in the last
three generations of Sebrings, Portia was adored by all of us.

For the first time, I wondered about my little sister's love life. The very
thought of her sharing a bed with a man felt wrong, and I pushed it out of
my mind and turned my attention back to what my father and brother were
saying.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Anthony?"

"No, of course not, sir. I just don't want to see Portia hurt."

"You don't give your sister credit. Beneath her fair exterior beats the
heart of a true Sebring. She'll put the welfare of her country above
everything."

Tony opened his mouth to say something, then paused and worried his lip. I
couldn't tear my eyes from the small indentations.

My horse snorted and tossed her head, objecting to the unintentional
tightening of the reins. I eased my grip and patted her neck
apologetically. "Sorry, Baby."

"Very well, sir," Tony conceded, and before Portia rejoined us with another
mount, we came up with the idea of using Project Venona to get Mann into
the NSA and into our sister's vicinity.

A problem cropped up, however. The two involved parties didn't
cooperate. Mann had been with the NSA for at least three weeks, and he
seemed as completely unaware of Portia as she seemed of him. Although they
worked in the same building, and even on the same floor, they were like
ships that passed in the night. Father was growing impatient.

But now Tony had finally effected the meeting. "Sidorov was at it again,
digging through Tolstoy for his damned codes, and Portia found something
that helped crack it."

"It's what she does best."

"Yes. Mann was impressed. He couldn't take his eyes off her."

"And Portia? What did she think of Mr. Freeze?"

"She seemed... interested. I urged her to go to dinner with him."

"That's what Father wanted, isn't it?"

"But Father is at the embassy in Vienna and I'm here to deal with it."

"With what? The fact that our sister had dinner with Nigel Mann? It sounds
harmless enough."

"Do you think so?" He scowled at me. "They left Arlington Hall about 9:30."

"A *late* dinner." I shrugged.

His scowl deepened. "It was after 3 AM when she got home. I was ready to
start calling hospitals."

"Oh, big brother." I shook my head, biting back a smile. "How did Portia
react to that?"

"She let me know she could take care of herself."

"Well, she can. We've all seen to that."

"You're right." He sighed. "Anyway, she's settled in for what's left of the
night."

"And you're here. Why?"

"I had to talk to someone."

"And you chose me. I'm flattered, Tony." Would he still have come if
Jefferson had been in town? Somehow, I doubted it. I wasn't the one he
sought out, hadn't been the one he sought out, in more years than I cared
to think of. Oh, he didn't make a big thing of it, and none of the family
seemed to have noticed, but I was the one who knew. "I still don't
understand why you're here."

"Bryan, you know what a stickler our sister is when it comes to her
appearance. She was completely disheveled. Her blouse was tucked in any
which way, it was buttoned wrong, what buttons were buttoned, her hair was
down, most of the pins holding it gone... She looked as if she'd been
mauled!"

I felt my expression go flat and forgot my own troubles. "I'll pull him out
of the Project."

"You can't. Father would be unhappy."

"Do you think I care about Father's feelings?"

"Yes. As much as Jeff and I do."

"But not to the point where I'll put anything above Portia's happiness."

A look of surprise flashed across his face. "When did you become your own
man, little brother?"

"I've always been my own man, Anthony."

The look was gone. "It doesn't matter. *She* would be unhappy."

"*What*?"

"We planned this too well. Apparently, *she* doesn't think Mann's a cold
fish." His laugh was filled with misery, and he wouldn't meet my eyes,
another sign he'd been drinking. "I've never seen her so taken with
anyone."

"Tony?" With gentle fingers I raised his chin. It had been a very long time
since I'd touched him. "Don't you think it's too early for her to have
fallen in love with him?"

"She's as much a Sebring as any of us."

I understood what he meant. Sebrings found their one true love, married,
and were happy for the rest of their lives, so the story went. Or, there
were those like me, who would never have their love returned and so would
have the choice of living alone or marrying for convenience. I hoped Portia
would be one of the former.

I wondered which Tony was. I dreaded the day when he would announce his
engagement. He had a year or so before, and I had felt as if my heart was
being ripped from my chest. But I'd offered the couple my best wishes.

She called it off within a matter of months, and I'd written my brother a
brief, stilted note expressing my sympathy, while inside I had breathed a
sigh of relief. That made me ashamed. He was my brother, and I should want
his happiness above everything else.

Tony's eyes looked tired. "No matter how this turns out, Portia will never
forgive me."

"Oh, big brother." I put my arms around him and rocked him. I struggled to
keep from turning my head and running my lips across his cheek. I would
allow myself a moment to offer him this comfort, then release him. "She
will forgive you."

His hands gripped my waist, and for a second I thought he would pull me
into a deeper embrace, but then I realized it was just to keep me at a
distance, not that I would have attempted closer contact.

I kept my lower body away from his, drew in a silent breath, inhaling the
remnants of the aftershave he always wore, and let him go.

"Don't you know how much she loves you? It will all work out."

"If it doesn't... "

"It will. Worry wart."

"Bry... "

"Take your coat off."

He obeyed my order without question, a sure sign of his emotional distress,
and draped it over a chair. "I shouldn't have disturbed you... "

"I don't mind."

"... but I wanted to talk to you."

"All right. Come into the kitchen, Tony. I'll make us some tea."

"Portia made me a cup of tea too. Mother's cure-all." He followed me into
my tiny galley kitchen.

"Well, both sides of the family have their roots in England."

"That's true." He touched the small of my back. I stared at him over my
shoulder, barely able to control my shiver of surprise. "Were you expecting
trouble?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

He nodded toward my back. "You're armed."

I made myself smile at him. "When I'm awakened out of a sound sleep at this
time of night, I always like to be prepared."

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"No matter."

He leaned against the counter and watched as I set the kettle to boil. "Did
you know that Mother was supposed to marry one of her English cousins?"

"Really?" I wasn't surprised at the abrupt change of topic - my older
brother could be like that - but that couldn't be what he wanted to talk to
me about.

He nodded. "He was killed on November 11, 1918."

"The day of the Armistice? What a waste."

"I wonder which is worse - being killed on the day peace is declared, or
having the bombing of Pearl Harbor fall on your birthday?"

"No one has an excuse to forget my birthday." I shrugged, remembering my
eleventh birthday. Shortly afterwards, Tony had come home from Harvard and
informed Father that he had enlisted in the Navy. Father hadn't been
pleased, but reconciled himself when Tony's qualifications - he was in his
senior year at Harvard, even though he was two years younger than everyone
else in his class - got him into officers' training school. "I wonder how
we would have turned out if she and her cousin had married."

"More daughters for her? Perhaps. Most of the cousins on that side are
female."

"So a year and a half later she married father?"

"Grandfather Sebring arranged the marriage."

"Ah." That explained some things, Mother's restrained demeanor around our
father, for one. "That was very 18th century, wasn't it?"

"The Blackburns were an influential family before the Crash."

"I knew that."

"There was something else." His expression became brooding. "Apparently
Father had been... on the verge of marrying someone else. She was a
Ziegfeld Girl."

"*What*?" My mind boggled and my eyes crossed. Our *father*, one of the
most reserved men we knew?

"Grandfather bought her off."

"How did you hear about this?" Was that why our father had always been so
cool to his own father? "Does Father know you know?"

"I was with Grandfather as he lay dying, and he rambled about a good many
things. And no, Father has no idea. This wasn't something I was about to
bring up to him."

"What about Jeff?"

"He doesn't know."

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"You said it yourself." His grin was crooked. "I've been drinking, little
brother."

This was the second time he'd called me 'little brother.' It had been a
long time - almost ten years - since he'd called me that.

I forced myself to continue the mundane tasks of getting the tea ready -
spooned tea into the tea pot, took down cups and saucers, filled the
creamer with cream. No sugar, though. Like me, he sweetened it with honey.

He glanced around the kitchen. "You need a bigger place, Bryan."

"Just for me? No, it doesn't pay."

"When you settle down... "

When I settle down. So this was what he'd been leading up to.

"Ah, when I settle down, Tony," I said, humoring him, "I'll buy a big house
in the country and raise the next generation of Sebrings... " For a second
I thought there was a trace of defeat in his eyes, but I must have been
wrong.

"... and Irish Wolfhounds and Tennessee Walking Horses?"

"Yes." Before I'd realized what the family business was, that had been my
sole ambition, and my brothers had often teased me about it.

"And the girl you'll marry will be your one true love."

No, she wouldn't, but he didn't want to hear this now, no more than he'd
wanted to hear it when he'd come back from the Pacific a few years after
the War, looking so dashing and handsome in his dress whites, and I'd told
him...

I cut off that train of thought and forced a smile. "And you, big brother?
When will you be getting married?"

"I am married, little brother. To my job." His smile was as tight as
Father's. "Didn't you realize that?"

The kettle began to whistle, saving me from having to answer.

****

Portia baffled Tony as well as Father. She married Nigel Mann, not once,
but twice, and they produced a strong, healthy little boy.

Jefferson, much like a sailor with a sweetheart in every port, had a lover
in every major city of the world, and he seemed quite happy with that state
of ... affairs.

Tony was seen with any number of women on his arm, each one more beautiful
than the last, but none lasted long.

Eventually, I did marry, but for the wrong reasons - to take the pressure
off my older brothers, neither of whom seemed likely to marry and give my
father the grandson who would carry on the Sebring name, to prove to myself
that just because I was a Sebring, that didn't mean I'd only have one
chance at love.


1965


February in Manhattan. It was colder than DC.

Hazelton, Director of - well, that really wasn't important. Steve asked if
I'd do him a favor. He needed an officer whose face was unknown in the
field. Intelligence from a contact at the UN needed to be picked up and
delivered to another officer.

Coming from him, the request was more like an order to volunteer. Not that
I minded. As I'd told Hazelton, "Anything for our Country."

The truth of the matter was that for the past month or so I'd been feeling
restless and somewhat envious of my middle brother, who got to travel the
world and do things.

So I flew into Kennedy, and my ride drove me into Manhattan. I checked into
the Bonheur, a small hotel in the Murray Hill District, then caught a cab
to the UN.

The retrieval went smoothly, and I passed on the information, also without
a hitch, at a drop in Central Park.

Now, my time was my own. Hazelton had told me that as a bonus, once the job
was completed, I could stay in Manhattan or vacation where I chose. Still
restless, I decided to return to my hotel and see about catching a flight
to... somewhere.

I jogged across 5th Avenue to the Plaza Hotel, where there was a cab stand,
and raised my hand to hail a cab. One pulled up to the curb and let out a
young woman. She looked familiar to me.

"Johanna?" Johanna Harrington was the young widow of a West Point grad who
had been an acquaintance of mine. He gave her two children in quick
succession and then went off to Vietnam where he was killed. "How are you?"
I could see she couldn't quite place me. "I'm Bryan Sebring. I was in your
wedding party."

"Oh, yes, Bill's friend. I'm doing all right."

"And your children?"

"They're... all right too. They're too young to remember Bill."

"I'm sure they miss having a father."

"Yes." She looked away from me.

Was she going to cry? It had been a couple of years since Bill's death
but...  I cleared my throat. "I'm surprised to see you in Manhattan. I
believe I heard you were living with your parents?"

"In Baltimore. Yes. It was so difficult, and then when Daddy died... " Her
absurdly long lashes dipped to shield her eyes, and her lips quivered into
what I took to be an attempt at a brave smile in the face of
adversity. "Mother is watching the children for me. She insisted I needed
some time away. I'm staying here at the Plaza, and shopping." She held up
the shopping bags in her hands, all from exclusive department stores.

"You've done a good job of it." I took in her china blue eyes and hair like
black silk, which feathered around her piquant face, and I smiled at her.

"Ya in or ya out, Mac?"

"Johanna, if you're not in any rush, if you don't have to be anywhere,
would you care to have a drink with me?"

"Why... Yes, thank you. I'd like that." Her lashes fanned down over her
cheeks, and then lifted. "I'll just need to bring these up to my room and
freshen up." She finally smiled, and the dimple in the corner of her mouth
took my breath away.

I paid the cab driver and sent him on his way.

"Let me help you."

"Thank you."

I took the bags from her and followed her into the hotel. As the elevator
carried us up to her floor, she kept sending little looks my way, and I
found my interest stirring.

We exited on 10, and she took her key from her purse and handed it to me. I
shifted the bags to my right hand, unlocked the door and opened it, and
allowed her to enter before me. Then I followed her in.

Her hotel room was simply furnished with a double bed, a chest of drawers,
a chair by the window, and a night table. A copy of Van Gogh's 'Garden of
Daubigny' hung opposite the bed.

I placed the shopping bags on the bed.

Johanna was fiddling with the collar of her mink coat, and I wondered at
how nervous she suddenly seemed. "I'll only be a moment."

"There's no rush, Johanna." My restlessness seemed to have vanished. I
nodded toward the bags. "The clothes will get wrinkled. I'll call
housekeeping and have someone come up to take care of them for you."

"Oh! That's so kind of you, Bryan!"

"Not at all."

She hesitated for a second, then removed her mink and went into the
bathroom.

****

Drinks led to dinner, to another date, to the theatre, to dancing.

The contrast between her dark beauty and my blond looks was striking,
bringing envious glances our way, but what drew me most was that dimple. It
was a provocative temptation, a promise of steamy kisses that would lead to
passion-filled nights. I was pleased that my body reacted to her.

The fact that my body reacted to her gave me hope that perhaps I was more a
Blackburn than a Sebring.

I didn't bring her to my room at the Bonheur, however. I refrained from
doing more than kiss her, and even those kisses were restrained. I kept my
tongue behind my teeth. I'd been raised a gentleman.

Before I knew it, my time in the City was drawing to a close.

"I'd like to continue seeing you once you go home." I held her hand,
rubbing my thumb over the soft skin, and gazed into her eyes.

Her cheeks pinked. "I'd like that, Bryan," she said in a breathy
whisper. She was leaving the next day also.

I squeezed her hand, called the airline and changed my flight to Washington
to one that would land in Baltimore instead, and flew back with her.

So began a whirlwind courtship that had me proposing after six weeks, and
when she said yes, I called my parents to let them know.

Father was pleased, and I could almost see him rubbing his hands together.

"Splendid work, Bryan. She's already had two children. There should be no
problem with her giving you sons."

"No, sir."

"You'll bring her to the manor, of course."

"Of course. May I speak to Mother?"

He put her on the phone. "I understand congratulations are in order."

"Yes."

"Are you very sure, Bryan?"

"Of course I'm sure, Mother. Why would you think I wouldn't be?"

"I just want you to be happy. Being a Sebring... " She didn't finish her
sentence. "Will this weekend be too short a notice for her to come here?"

"It shouldn't be. I know she's looking forward to meeting you and Father."

"As are we her. Will she bring her children?"

"I'll have to ask her. She doesn't like to take them out of
Baltimore. She's mentioned that they get carsick... " Which was why I
hadn't been able to take them on any day trips. "Since this is so
important, I'm sure we'll be able to work something out. I'll get back to
you as soon as I talk to her."

We spoke a bit longer - which room Mother would give Johanna, what menu
she'd plan - and when I hung up, I immediately called my fiancee.

"Oh, how sweet!" she exclaimed when I told her of my parents' reaction to
the news that we were going to be married, leaving out Father's
anticipation of her adding to the Sebring line.

"Libby and Billy will love Shadow Brook and the manor - it's a wonderful
place for children."

"But ... "

"My brothers and sister and I loved growing up there."

"Bryan, listen, please. I'm afraid Libby and Billy won't be able to
come. They'll be staying with Bill's parents this weekend."

"You didn't tell me." The Harringtons also lived in Baltimore.

"Didn't I? I was sure I did."

There was a tight note in her voice, and I decided not to push it. "Well,
perhaps another time."

"Yes. Perhaps, although you know how poorly they travel. Now tell me more
about your home."

I described the house and the surrounding lands with paddocks, apple
orchards, and pond. "Once we're married, Jo, I'll buy a house just like
that for us. I have my eye on a beauty that's in Virginia."

"Oh, I don't think I'd like to live in Virginia. It's so far from Mother."

"Then wherever you like, Jo." I didn't like the desperation I heard in my
voice.

"But the children... "

"They'll love a big house in the country, you'll see."

"If you think so." She didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I put it down to
pre-wedding jitters.

We didn't leave Baltimore until midmorning on Saturday, in spite of my
intention to make an early start.

Libby and Billy hadn't left for their other grandparents' home when I
arrived to pick up Johanna. They fussed and whined as she tried to get them
dressed.

"Jo, I did tell you I'd pick you up at 9, didn't I?" The drive to the manor
was almost three hours if I pushed it, and I hadn't wanted to push it. I
wanted us to have a leisurely drive.

"Yes. It's just... " She was distracted. "I won't be long, I promise."

"Can I help?" I started to reach for the pair of tiny trousers that were
Billy's, and he howled and ducked behind his mother.

"NO!" She snatched them out of my hand. "That is, no. Thank you. I can
handle them. Would you mind waiting in the parlor? Please?"

"Yes, do come, Bryan." Mrs. Collier, Johanna's mother, took my arm and
urged me out of the room. "Libby and Billy are just a trifle high
strung. Let me get you a cup of coffee, and then I'll go pack for Johanna
myself."

"She's not even packed?"

"It will only take me a moment. I'll just get your coffee... "

"No, thank you! Please don't go to the trouble." I really didn't want a cup
of coffee.

"Oh. Well, if you're sure... ?"

"I'm sure."

"I'll just see about... " She was out of the room before she finished the
sentence.

I walked to the window that opened to a view of the house next door, but it
wasn't a very edifying view.

Looking at my watch wouldn't make the time pass faster. I turned on the
television, but all that was on were cartoons. A local station was playing
vintage Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, and I stood there watching as Daffy
shrieked at Elmer Fudd, "Shoot 'im now! Shoot 'im now!" I shut it off.

Finally they all came downstairs. Mrs. Collier was carrying three
suitcases, and Johanna had a child on each side of her. The children seemed
to have calmed down, and I blew out a breath of relief.

"Shall we go, Jo?"

"Mommy, you're not going away, are you?"

"Yes, Mommy is. And you're going to see Grandma and Granddad, and you're
going to have such a lovely time!" Her joviality seemed forced. "All your
favorite things are packed in your little suitcases."

And the calm was shattered. "No, Mommy! Don't go! Don't go!" They cried and
clung to her.

"Oh, my babies!" She knelt down and opened her arms to gather them into her
embrace.

"Jo, if you want, we can take them with us." I could see this becoming the
Drive from Hell, stopping every few miles so they wouldn't get
carsick. "I'm sure Bill's parents would understand... "

"Don't want to go! Want Mommy to stay!" Libby kicked me in the shins, and
her brother beat on my calf with his chubby toddler fists.

They were children, and I was ashamed of myself for the irritation I
felt. But my brothers and sister and I would never have behaved in that
manner. Mother would have deemed it in poor taste if she had ever let us
become so out of hand.

"Precious, no, mustn't kick Uncle Bryan." Johanna glanced at me. "I don't
understand why Bill's parents haven't arrived yet. I can't bear to leave
them... Maybe I'd better not go, Bryan. We can do this next week, can't we?
Surely one week wouldn't matter too terribly much!"

"Johanna, my mother has gone to a great deal of trouble for this weekend."

"I can't leave them like this." Her eyes were swimming with tears but her
mouth had a stubborn turn, and she started to remove her coat. She was
hampered by the fact that her children held on like leeches. "I'm sorry. I
just can't. You'll have to tell your mother... "

"Just go, Johanna," her mother ordered, a trace of impatience in her
voice. She took each of her grandchildren by the wrist and yanked them
away, and they began to wail even louder. I could feel a headache
starting. "They'll be fine once you're out of here."

"I'll see their tearful little faces the whole way to Garrett County,
Mother!"

"Johanna! Bryan is going to wonder who is more the child! Now please go!"

"But... "

"Come on, Jo." I raised her to her feet and settled her coat on her
shoulders. Then I picked up her suitcase, took her arm, and urged her out
the door, the sounds of her children's screams following us to the curb.

"My babies!" she murmured in a broken whisper.

"Will you react this way when it's time to go on our honeymoon?"

She flinched as if I'd struck her. "No, of course not. But I can't bear to
see them so upset. It's been just the three of us for so long, and they
haven't had to share me."

"Listen! Please, Jo, listen. They've already stopped crying."

"Oh! They have."

"I want you to meet my parents, and I know Father and Mother are anxious to
meet you. He's rearranged his schedule, and she's planned a special dinner
for you."

"You're right." She took a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her
eyes. "I'm sorry. We can go now."

But she kept looking back at the house until I turned a corner and it was
no longer in view, and I wondered what she would do when we had children of
our own. Would she neglect them for her older children?

When I ushered Johanna into the house in which I'd grown up, Mother was
just coming down the hallway.

"I'm sorry we've kept you waiting, Mother. Traffic," I offered as an
excuse.

She studied me intently for a moment but said nothing. She turned to
Johanna and smiled.

"Welcome to the family, my dear. Anthony had to take a phone call, but
he'll be with us shortly. I'm so sorry you were unable to bring the
children."

"I told Bryan their father's parents wanted to take them this weekend." Was
there a bite in her tone?

"Of course. They'd want to see their son's children. They'd have every
right to expect to see them," Mother said smoothly. "It's been a long while
since there were children here, and we're so pleased that that's
changing. Bryan's sister had a baby in February, as I'm sure he's told
you."

"Yes. How nice for you. I mean a new baby is such a wonderful thing."

Mother's mouth tightened, and she glanced at me.

Father joined us just then, and while he greeted my fiancee warmly, I could
see something was on his mind. I raised an eyebrow, and he nodded.

Mother saw. "Johanna, let's leave the men to their business, shall we?"

"Oh, but... "

"I'm sure you'd like to unpack and freshen up, my dear. I'll take you up to
your room."

"Thank you. I would like that. It was a long drive. Don't be too long,
Bryan. You promised to take me riding." She hadn't seemed too enthused
about that when I'd mentioned picking out a horse for her.

"We'll have to do that tomorrow, Jo." I was already following my father
down the hall to his study.

I heard Mother say, "Afterwards I'll show you the house and my rose
garden. The weather is lovely today." She knew we would probably be a
while.

****

Johanna and I returned from our honeymoon in Hawaii to take up residence in
the house in Baltimore that had been in her mother's family since before
the Civil War. Mrs. Collier had graciously offered it to us, and Johanna
had thought it would be a good idea that we accept.

"My mother is here, Bryan, and Bill's family also, and the children's
friends. It will make the transition so much easier for them."

"Very well, Jo." I didn't tell her I would have an hour's commute, and most
likely longer during rush hour. We'd had a good time on Oahu, reminiscent
of the week we'd spent in Manhattan, and I wanted to keep that feeling.

While having breakfast in what she'd designated the breakfast room, a small
area that had originally been part of the servants' quarters, she chatted
on about the shopping she needed to do before the dinner party she was
having that evening.

"Don't forget, Bryan. Be home on time? I'll put the children to bed early."

"Of course, Jo."

And I fully intended to, but then one of my officers managed to radio some
intelligence to his contact, and we needed to get him out of harm's way...

We were too late. I had to visit his family to tell them.

It was past midnight by the time I got home. Our guests were long gone, but
the children were still up.

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were going to put them to bed
early. They're too young to be up this late."

"Mommy!" Libby whined. Billy stuck his thumb in his mouth and glared at me
over it.

Johanna's lips tightened. She turned on her heel and led them away.

I crossed to the liquor cabinet, poured myself a generous glass of
Glenlivet, and went into the kitchen to see if my wife had set aside a
plate for me.

She hadn't, but I found enough leftovers in the refrigerator to make myself
a sandwich. As I ate I finished the Glenlivet, then poured myself another
one and waited for Johanna to join me downstairs, but after an hour I grew
tired of waiting. I made sure the house was locked and climbed the stairs
to our bedroom.

Johanna was already in bed, reading Arthur Hailey's 'Hotel St. Gregory'.

"You could have told me you weren't coming back down." I hung up my suit
jacket, stepped out of my shoes, and stripped off my shirt and trousers.

She marked her page with a bookmark and said, "It was very rude of you not
to be here, Bryan. I invited these people for you."

"I'm sorry, Jo." I took my pajamas into the bathroom to finish changing.

"I hope you're not going to make a habit of it," she called. She didn't ask
why I was late.

"This is my job, Johanna."

"But Bryan, how will you advance your career if you're not present at the
dinner parties I hostess for you?"

"Johanna... " I came back into the bedroom. Didn't she realize it was
essential for me to keep a low profile? I opened my mouth to tell her, but
she continued.

"Bill always made it a point of being home. He knew how important it was to
have the right people to dinner. If he hadn't been killed, he would have
been a colonel by now, and on his way to becoming a general!"

"I don't want to quarrel with you, Johanna."

"You're always doing this, Bryan."

"Excuse me?"

"You left me with your mother to go talk to your father. You left me to
entertain your guests... "

*My* guests? "Johanna... " I blew out a breath. "Look. It's been a bad
day. I just want to go to sleep."

She gave a huff and picked up her book. "All right."

Mother or Portia would have wanted to know what had gone wrong.

I turned out the lamp on my side of the bed, but she left hers on.

"I'll just continue to read for a bit, if you don't mind." She removed the
bookmark from the page.

"Of course not, my dear." I turned on my side and closed my eyes, but it
took me a while to fall asleep. I wondered if I'd moved too fast in getting
married.

Things were cool between us for more than a week, until the next dinner
party. I made an effort to be there, and as a reward, that dimple came out
once more. It took a short while longer before my body reacted to it once
again.


1975


The dream of that big house in the country and raising dogs and
horses... and children... became nothing more than a lost dream.

Johanna had no trouble getting pregnant. It was staying pregnant that was
the problem. One pregnancy after another ended in miscarriage.

After almost ten years and four successive miscarriages and a premature
birth, Johanna had had enough. She gazed at me across the breakfast table.

"Dr. Lumley has advised against trying for any more children, Bryan," she
informed me as she stirred skim milk into her coffee.

I touched my napkin to my lips. "If he thinks that would be best." It
didn't matter. The last pregnancy had been almost to term, and the thought
of going through the initial anticipation, only to be met with another loss
was too painful. "Do you want to deal with birth control, or would you
rather I did?"

"Actually, I'd... I'd rather you moved into the small bedroom off the
master suite."

"You don't want me in our bed?"

"For what purpose, Bryan? We haven't made love in ages."

I stared at her blankly. It hadn't even occurred to me that in the months
since I'd held our tiny son as he breathed his last - Portia had been with
me; Johanna was still recovering from the emergency C-section. 'You say
there's nothing that can be done. Then let this child know the comfort of
his father's arms,' and my sister had stared down the obstetrician until
he'd shrugged as if it was immaterial to him and permitted it - I had never
once reached for my wife, not even for simple comfort.

"Do you want a divorce?"

"No. No one in my family has ever divorced, and besides, it will be too
hard on the children."

"Would they even notice?"

She frowned at me.

Her children... I'd never had the opportunity to make them mine. They were
either with her mother or with her deceased husband's family, and when they
were home, those few times they weren't in bed when I returned home myself,
their response to any conversational gambits was sullen and monosyllabic,
and they wouldn't meet my eye. Johanna had insisted on home-schooling for
them. I'd tried to persuade her that sending them to local schools might be
a better idea, but her mouth had become pinched. 'Do not ever interfere
with my children!'

"Tell me something, Johanna," I said now. "Why do you do everything in your
power to prevent me from growing close to Libby and Billy?" They were
thirteen and twelve now.

"I don't... "

"You do. You have from the very beginning."

"I'm simply protecting my children! They were devastated when their real
father died!"

"You told me they didn't remember Bill."

"When? I never... "

"The very first day we met. 'They're too young to remember,' you said."

She turned pale. "How can you remember that?"

"I have a very good memory. That's part of my job."

"Your job... " She gave a little gasp, but I didn't pay any attention to
it.

"You didn't even give me the chance to become a father to them."

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? You didn't want a wife, you
wanted a brood mare with a ready-made family." Her voice grew shrill. "Did
you think I wouldn't hear? You have one brother who's a fa... a homosexual,
and another who's a eunuch."

I slammed my hand down on the table, the explosion of sound shocking
her. "You will not refer to my brothers like that."

Pale and shaking, she drew a breath. I had only lost my temper with her
once before, when she'd said some denigrating things about my sister
because Portia had worked after she'd married, and even after she'd had
Quinn.

'You know nothing about my sister or the work she's done,' I'd snapped at
Johanna, 'so keep your mouth shut.'

She'd hastily retracted her words then, and she did so again
now. "I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Her lips folded into a
tight line. "I think that it would be better for the both of us if you did
sleep in another bedroom."

"Very well. I'll stay out of your way as much as possible, then." I shoved
my chair away from the table. "Tell Martha I won't be home for dinner,
please."

"Aren't you at least going to object?"

"Why? Would it make any difference?"

"No, I suppose not." She appeared defeated. "Will you find someone else,
Bryan?"

"I never cheated on you, Johanna."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps it would have been better if you had. I could have
fought a flesh and blood rival."

"There was never a rival, Jo."

"Do you truly believe that?  The CIA, Bryan. You love it above everything."
She was wrong, but I wasn't going to tell her that. "I knew you didn't love
me, but... "

"If that's what you thought, then why did you agree to marry me, Johanna?"

She flushed. "You were quite attractive, Bryan. You still are. And I wanted
to be married again. I missed being married. And my children needed a
father. It wasn't as if... " Her voice hitched. "... as if there was anyone
I loved. Maybe if one of our little boys had survived... "

She had been far enough along in each pregnancy that Dr. Lumley had been
able to tell us the sex of each child.

"That first day, when I brought you up to my hotel room... " She toyed with
her napkin, avoiding my eyes. "I wanted to see how you would react. You
were the perfect gentleman. You didn't lunge or paw at me. So many men
thought widows were fair game." Her flush deepened. "How was I to know you
didn't touch me because you just didn't care?"

I was about to protest that I had cared, when I realized what she'd
said. "That was a test? You were testing me?"

Her eyes rose to mine, and then she looked away. "All I ask is that if you
do choose to take a mistress, please be discreet. If not for my sake, then
for my... the children's."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Jo."

"Thank you for that at least, Bryan."

"My dear... "

"Please don't call me that. It's so cold, so impersonal... "

"It's how my father addresses my mother."

"Precisely."

Was that how those outside the family saw it - as my parents being cold?
Neither of them believed in overt displays of affection. Even Portia and
her husband were the epitome of discretion when others were present,
although I'd happened to walk in on them one time when they thought they
were alone. I'd quickly backed out, and they never knew I'd observed them,
but the way he held her and the way she molded herself against him gave me
a startling insight into their relationship. Unlike mine, theirs was a
marriage of love.

I looked into my wife's china blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Johanna."

"I'm sorry too. I didn't want it to come to this." She didn't realize I was
apologizing for being unable to love her. She rose and came to stand before
me. "If only... "

"I'd better leave. I'll be late for work."

"Of course. Are you sure you don't want to come home for dinner?"

"Hazelton has called a meeting of all the department heads." He'd become
DCI, and it was a pleasure to work with him.

"Of course. The Director of the CIA snaps his fingers, and you go running."
She walked to the door with me and handed me my briefcase. "I'll make up
the bed in the other room and move your clothes there."

"Thank you. I... It was never my intention to make you unhappy, Jo."

"I know. I guess I ... " She sighed. "We are who we are. If you ever meet
someone... "

I already had, but I'd known for years that it was hopeless. "The same goes
for you, Johanna."

She raised her hand, and I wouldn't allow myself to flinch, but she simply
rested her palm against my cheek, her smile lopsided. "Have a good day,
Bryan."

I opened the door and left.


1978


Johanna and I kept a united front in public - even the family was unaware
of our living arrangements - but whatever affection we'd had for each other
was gone; we were strangers to each other, if we had ever been anything
else.

****

Jefferson, home on leave for Nigel Mann's funeral, was accompanied by an
Englishman, Ludovic Rivenhall. They wore matching rings on the middle
fingers of their left hands.

****

Tony remained a staunch bachelor.


tbc