Page 57

Six Years Later

Jack

The back lawn has transformed into party central. We are hosting a catered lunch to celebrate two big family events.

Ava believes the lunch is strictly a graduation lunch for Sophia.

My baby girl graduated from UCLA and has been accepted into the FBI graduate program.

She’ll be heading to Quantico in two short weeks.

To be honest, I’m not thrilled, but she’s determined to dedicate her career to locking up criminals. With any luck, she’ll be an analyst.

I still don’t know everything she endured when she was abducted, and as her father, I probably don’t want to know. I’m so damn proud of her, though, for fighting through the dark and finding her way to better days.

Sophia believes this lunch is strictly a graduation lunch for Ava. My wife completed her Ph.D. in Experimental Psychology from UCSD. She completed the rigorous program while continuing to oversee Nueva Vida and giving birth to our son, Justin, named after my father.

My uncle passed away two months before Justin was born. He died disgraced, under state penal custody, and alone. He begged for Ava to convince Patrick to reach out to him. Patrick blocked his number and returned all mail. To our knowledge, Patrick never spoke with him after his arrest.

Patrick waves to me from outside. He’s carrying a bag loaded with wrapped presents. I exit the house and greet our friend.

“This looks amazing, Jack. I didn’t know you had this in you.” He’s complimenting me on the party aesthetic. Bubble machines hidden in bushes send a whirl of bubbles over the swimming pool, and profuse flower and balloon arrangements are scattered everywhere. This is what money buys.

“I don’t have this in me. Janet did it all. Well, she hired an event planner.”

“I want that name. This is stunning.”

Patrick no longer lives in Los Angeles. He moved to San Diego to take a more active role in Nueva Vida and to be closer to Ava. About a year after he and Mark split, he met a fantastic guy who we all love.

“Where’s Joey?”

Patrick glances at his watch. “He’ll be here. His shift doesn’t end until one.”

Joey is a police officer with the SDPD. For a few years there, I worried he’d convince Sophia to join the police force. I’m not entirely sure the FBI is safer than the police force, but she’s making her choices.

Ava and I have our hands full with our son.

She was pregnant on the day I proposed, but it wasn’t a healthy pregnancy, and she miscarried.

It was an emotional time for us, but we made it through with open, honest communication.

The kind Ava specializes in. And a little over two years later, she delivered our healthy son at the age of forty-one.

I am bracing myself for that first day of kindergarten when some parents are half my age, but that’s fine. Chances are I’ll be much wiser than the younger parents. For one thing, work no longer rules my life. Supporting my wife and being a dad are my top priorities by miles.

“Look at these cakes. Holy…!” Patrick sets his shopping bag down and pulls out his phone to snap photos.

One cake says Congratulations Sophia and the other reads Congratulations Dr. Amara. Yes, Ava kept her name. She said she needed to maintain her identity. I’ll give her anything she wants, and most definitely everything she needs.

“How many people are coming?”

“Janet handles the details. I’m not sure.”

I glance around at the tables and chairs. An acoustic guitar player Ava and Sophia like is setting up in a corner. Guests will arrive in about thirty minutes, but Ava and Sophia should arrive any minute. Patrick and I will surprise them.

Sophia thinks she’s getting Ava out of the house for this setup, and Ava thinks she’s getting Sophia out of the way for the party. It’s truly the most ingenious plan I’ve ever had.

Ryan and Alexandria round the path to the back yard.

We have a valet service out front, and they will handle parking cars and instructing guests to come along the side of the house to the back. Arrow Security has a staff monitoring video and a few discreetly placed employees along the beachfront and at the front of the property.

“This is amazing,” Alex gushes.

Ryan flew his helicopter down from Santa Barbara so they could join us.

They didn’t bring their kids since Alex says parties like this are more enjoyable without them in tow, but Ryan confided that their kids don’t do adult parties too well.

They’re a couple of years older than Justin, but I definitely understand.

“You’ve done a great job,” he says.

“Puh-leaze,” Patrick says, his grin wide.

“Hey, even for hiring someone, this is impressive,” Ryan counters.

I give Alex a hug, and as I do, I see my family come around the side path.

Justin sits on his mother’s hip, but his legs are kicking back and forth, eager to get down and check out the balloons and bubbles and probably climb on all the tables. He’s four, and I could swear his sister was much calmer at age four, but maybe it’s a case of rose-colored glasses.

Sophia lights up, clearly enchanted by the flowers and balloons. I used all her favorite colors, since my wife’s favorite colors remain what I consider non-colors. Our back yard is an explosion of dark and light pink, blues and greens.

Fisher trails them along the path but stops and finds an out of the way location near the back of the house.

He meets my gaze, and we nod at each other.

He’s been the head of our home security team for six years.

We discussed having someone follow Sophia to Quantico, but Fisher convinced me that would be unnecessary.

We agreed that once she completes the program, depending on where she’s assigned, we may send a security detail.

I sent one to UCLA, but they remained largely on the periphery.

Fisher will be leaving our services. Against my advice, he’s joining the CIA.

But with his military experience and ongoing work with Arrow, he’ll be an asset for them.

I’m not entirely sure what he will be doing for them.

The only reason I’m aware is that one of my contacts within the organization reached out to me as his employer when they were considering him.

His official reason for leaving Arrow is that he is changing careers and entering corporate America’s concrete jungle.

Several of Sophia’s friends arrive at the same time my wife sees the cakes.

“You.” It’s all she says. She sets down Justin, and he takes off. I go to my gorgeous wife and accept the kiss she wants to give me.

“I’m so proud of you.”

She constantly amazes me. Today she’s wearing a sleeveless white dress.

She no longer worries over her tattoos. The tattoos cover most scars, but there’s one nasty scar from an infection site that remains visible.

I’ve told her over and over that her scars bear witness to her strength.

It took a long time, but she finally heard me.

An expose about her history, her heroin addiction, homelessness, and her rehabilitation success came out not too long after I announced to the world she was mine.

Letters poured in from all over the country from others inspired by her experience.

Nueva Vida has grown and flourished, and Ava has consulted with three other nonprofits to build similar facilities in their states.

She says to this day that she doesn’t know why she’s one of the lucky ones.

She claims anyone can relapse and the statistics prove that not everyone survives addiction.

But she’s got an inner strength and conviction.

She says she takes it day by day and takes nothing for granted.

But there’s a light within her. I once suspected her darkness drew me in.

But now, I believe on that first day when she entered my home, her inner light called to my soul.

I didn’t listen at first, but now, she’s my guiding siren.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t celebrate your achievement too?”

“But Sophia,” she hisses, and I shut her up by claiming her full, soft, kissable lips.

And that’s when we hear the splash.

He can swim, so there’s no panic, but now he’s wet, and guests are arriving.

Hands linked, Ava and I stroll over to the pool. Justin bobs up and gives us a sheepish grin.

“Justin, what did we say about getting close to the pool?”

“But the balloons,” he whines.

“Justin,” I say, bending down to take his hand and haul him out of the pool. “What did—”

“I not listen.”

Water pools at his feet, and smiling, Ava takes his hand. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“Oh no. You are the guest of honor. I got it.”

His small hand wraps around two of my fingers.

“I’ll get him—”

I loop an arm around my wife, letting my hand drop to her ass and giving her one firm squeeze that shuts her up. “I’ve got him.”

“But—,” she tries to argue.

“I’ve got everything. Now, go celebrate. And as soon as I get the little terror dressed, we’ll be down to celebrate. And tonight,” I dip my head close to her ear, “we’ll have a private celebration.”

A flush of color lights her cheeks, and god, I love that blush.

My wife doesn’t blush often, but when she thinks about our secret room among the company of others, she does.

She places the tips of her fingers to her lips and blows me a kiss as she walks away, going to greet our guests.

But she gives me that little smile, and those deep brown eyes glint with amusement and love, and yeah, she hears me.