Deadline

Eva laid her hand on her husband’s arm, a silent command for him to can it. To Dawson, she said, “You were on your way to see Amelia when you left here yesterday.”

“Um-huh.”

“How is she holding up?”

“Okay. Ambivalent about Jeremy. She wanted to know everything, but dreaded hearing it all.”

“You told her everything?”

“Yes.”

“About her father?”

“That was the toughest.”

“How’d she take it?”

“Just as I expected. A meltdown over how he’d been tortured. But grateful to have it confirmed that he hadn’t taken his own life.”

Sadly, Eva said, “Lord, that poor young woman has been put through so much.”

Like he wasn’t aware of that. Like he wasn’t being a godd

amn Sir Galahad to spare her from being put through more. He didn’t say that, just made a motion with his shoulders to show that he agreed: Amelia had suffered some serious shit.

After giving him time to elaborate, which he didn’t do, Eva got up and began straightening things in the room—the stack of fresh towels that an orderly had left near the sink, a bouquet of flowers sent from Headly’s office in DC, a sheaf of hospital insurance forms. None of these things needed her attention. She was trying to pretend that she wasn’t about to pry, that this was a casual and spontaneous conversation.

Of course Dawson knew better.

“How were the little boys?” she asked.

“Good. Oblivious about their dad. For now. Which is as it should be.” In spite of his dark mood, a smile hiked up one corner of his mouth. “I had to give them a lesson in biology.” He related the anecdote. Eva and Headly laughed.

“After dinner, Amelia let them make their own sundaes, which were disgusting because they dribbled on everything she set out, including blackberry jam. They made a mess, but I think it was important to her to let them have a good time last night. Considering yesterday’s…event.”

The three were quiet for a moment, then Eva ventured to ask, “Did you explain to her why you went to such lengths to go after Carl and Jeremy?”

“We talked about it some.”

They looked at him, expecting more, but he didn’t expound.

Eva pressed on, her misty, wistful expression straight out of a greeting-card commercial. “Amelia is an excellent mother.”

Dawson cleared his throat. “She is.”

“And she’s such a sweet-natured person. It was kind of her to stay here with me through that terrible first night.”

“Sure was.”

“We talked like old friends, not like two women who’d just met.”

“Hmm.”

“She told me that the boys continually ask about school, because they’re aware that it starts next week. She doesn’t know how to tell them that they might not be going back when the other children do. They want a house with a yard so they can have a dog.”

“I know all this, Eva.”

Bickering with Headly was a normal part of their repartee. But he’d never had a cross word with Eva. Taken aback by his testiness, she lapsed into silence. But now that his anger over the situation had been given an opening, it burst of out him.