Page 25

“We’ve got protestors out front, and North wants us in the conference room in fifteen minutes.”

Jeanie gives a single nod. “I’ll spread the word.”

* * *

“Protestors?’ Vance Majors stands up, pacing along the wall. Generally, when Arvin North calls a meeting, the men know better than to stand and interject. But something’s clearly bothering Vance. “Why would anyone in their right mind be opposed to what we’re trying to do here?”

“Majors,” Arvin North says sharply, “have a seat.”

Vance does as he’s told, though he sits back in his chair with a dark look in his eyes.

“Now,” North goes on. “We have people picketing the entire periphery of Cape Kennedy, and the entrance to the Cape is filled with people holding up signs and shouting at cars. From what I’ve gathered, they’re upset about Gemini, but also about the fact that government funding is going towards the space program rather than towards Civil Rights issues.”

“Like what?” Todd Roman, also not one to speak up in these meetings, raises his head and asks the question in a way that makes it seem as though he hasn’t meant to. Everyone looks in Todd’s direction, and his youthful face grows animated. “I just mean, there are ways to spend different pots of money, and people don’t seem to understand that. It’s possible that the money NASA receives wouldn’t even go towards the things they’re protesting for. The money might go towards other scientific advancements. Research. So essentially, they’re kind of wasting their own time. And ours.”

Vance is nodding as Todd speaks. “And they’re hindering our ability to do our damn jobs,” he adds, looking far less youthful and far more angry than Todd Roman. “We show up here every day and are willing to put our lives on the line—quite literally,” he adds, and everyone goes silent for a moment thinking of Bob Young and Derek Trager. “And for what? For ignorant people out on the street to stand there with signs glued to sticks, shouting about how money is being wasted?”

Bill, who is always prone to silence in meetings and other scenarios where he’s being spoken to by a superior, clears his throat. “But don’t forget,” he says, holding out a hand, “they have the right to peacefully gather and protest. So far, we haven’t heard of anything that would qualify as not peaceful. No one is breaking the law, are they?” He turns and looks at Arvin North.

“Not as of yet,” North confirms. “We had a group approach the front doors of the building, but they’ve been escorted off the property by the police. My understanding is that the authorities are more than willing to keep them in check.”

“Not much else going on in Stardust Beach, huh? Cops are all over some people who want to march in circles and chant.” Jay Reed, always jocular and a true peacemaker, tries for a bit of levity. It falls flat. “Sorry,” he says, giving a close-lipped smile in surrender.

“The space program is a very important part of this community—and our state,” North says. “Everyone takes the safety and sanctity of Cape Kennedy seriously, and people infiltrating the property in order to shout negative things at our workers will not be accepted.”

Jeanie is seated across the table from Bill, and he catches her eye. They stare at one another for a moment and then she looks away.

“I have also heard that there are news crews out there and that they’re looking for soundbites. I understand that many of you engage in after hours fraternizing at The Black Hole,” Arvin North adds, “which is fine. Your time is your time. But I want you to be on high alert, and be aware of anyone you don’t recognize. I’m sure it won’t surprise a sharp bunch of people like yourselves, but there are news organizations out there that would be willing to wait for an inebriated astronaut to stumble out of a bar and spill the beans. Don’t let that be you.” North lowers his chin and takes his time dragging his gaze across every face at the table. “If I turn on my television or open my newspaper and see your face, or read a quote from any of you, there will be consequences. Am I being clear?”

A chorus of “Yes, sirs” breaks out around the table.

Arvin North heaves a sigh of resignation. “Alright then. Back to work you go. All of you. Heads down, mouths closed. As you were.”

The astronauts and engineers file out, barely making eye contact with one another. They have work to do. Things to focus on. Issues to hammer out before their next mission, which has been postponed but not cancelled. But all it will take is a misspoken word for the program to come under the kind of scrutiny that will hurt them all. They cannot afford that.

Bill is the last to leave the room, and as he does, Arvin North catches his gaze and holds it for a beat.

Bill nods and walks out.

CHAPTER12

Jude

It worksfor most of the day—usually. Jude wakes up, dresses quickly and drinks three cups of coffee as she gets the girls up, fed, and off to school. She then does everything around the house that needs to be done, and she drums up all the willpower she can muster to keep her mind focused on anything other than the thought of having a drink.

There have been plenty of days over the years when Jude has gotten to the lunch hour and then poured a stiff drink to enjoy on her patio while she reads a book and eats a sandwich. So it’s hard not to indulge in that little bit of pleasure. It’s incredibly difficult to tell herself that iced tea is as good as a cocktail. That staying clearheaded for the girls is what she needs to do. She’s gotten so good at convincing herself that there is absolutely nothing wrong with a little relaxing, and that she’s never been too drunk to take care of the kids. And just when she gets that thought in her head, she remembers: the pool.

The day she fell into the pool had been a bad one. She'd been thinking about her mother a lot, and Jude wanted nothing more than to reach out to Keiko, to tell her she missed her, and to see how she was, but she knew that was impossible. After the trip to Los Angeles on the boat there had been letters for a solid year, maybe more, and then nothing. No word of Keiko, or her whereabouts. No contact whatsoever. Jude had missed her mother terribly and she still does, but she’s gotten to the point where she understands that perhaps Keiko had disappeared from her life for reasons that were out of her hands. Jude isn’t even sure she wants the answers anymore.

But the day of the pool incident had been hard. She’d started drinking early, just sipping on and off as the girls played, and by lunchtime, she’d gotten so sloppy that all she could do was make toast for the girls before she went outside to pick up the Barbies and toys that Hope and Faith had left all over the place. Normally she’d make the girls do it as one of their chores, but they’d eaten their toast and gone to their bedroom to play a board game, so Jude had just done it herself. And that’s the last thing she remembers, truly. She’d woken up in the hospital with concerned people all around her: doctors, nurses, Vance, and—as she volunteered there several days a week—Jo Booker. The horror of it all had hit her in waves, and when she thinks of it now, it still feels like a fresh wound.

Jude puts a hand to her head involuntarily, touching the spot she’d hit on the cement of the pool deck. According to her neighbor, Ken Smithers, who has since moved back to Houston with his family, he’d been up on a ladder cleaning his gutters when he’d seen Jude fall and roll into the pool, and he’d gotten in through her side gate as quickly as possible to pull her out. The whole thing had been terribly shocking for Vance, who really hadn’t known how to address it or what he should do to help her, and they’d hidden as much of it as possible from the girls.

Seeing Ken Smithers once she’d gotten home from the hospital had been hard on Jude; she’d felt embarrassed and ashamed of herself, but even with those feelings looming over her, she’d continued on with her drinking. All it took was too much thinking about her mom, about her childhood, about feeling shunned by Alice, about losing Catherine’s friendship, and Jude would pour herself a drink. Always just one, which led to another, and another, and…

She shakes her head now, letting her hand fall away from the small scar on her temple where she’d needed stitches. Talking to Harrison Watts about finding Catherine has infused her life with a new sense of purpose, and Jude has to admit to herself that she has no idea what she’ll do with the information if Mr. Watts does call to let her know that he’s tracked down her old friend. Will she call her? If Catherine lives close enough, will she go to her? Surprise her? She truly has no idea, but for some reason, the search for Catherine has become her one mission, her one reason for staying sober and focused.

And if that’s all she has (and, God, sheshouldbe doing it for her daughters! Or her husband! Or herself!), then she’ll take it. Sobriety is going to be an uphill battle, and she’ll use whatever tools she can find in her arsenal to fight against the forces inside of her that want to hide in the bottom of an empty bottle. She has to. Jude cannot afford to end up slumped over in a pool again, or having to show her face and swallow her shame in front of friends and neighbors who find her at her lowest point.