Hadley & Grace(87)

Fifteen minutes after leaving the silos, they are back in town and parked in front of the Amtrak station. The timing was planned down to the minute. The train to Omaha is already on the track and scheduled to depart in ten minutes.

Hadley pulls Mattie into a fierce hug. “I love you,” she says, the words strangled.

Mattie pulls away. “We’re going to be okay,” she says.

Hadley manages a nod.

Mattie toes the ground and looks back at her mom, and Grace watches as she fights to keep the tears in her eyes as she says, “Thanks . . . you know . . . for what you did . . . for all of it. You were amazing.”

Grace sees how the words affect Hadley, her eyes going glassy as she studies her daughter for what might be the last time for a long time. She places her hand on Mattie’s cheek. “Be good.”

“Not too good,” Mattie answers with a wry smile; then bravely she turns for the train, and Skipper, unaware of the significance of the moment, bounds after her.

“Do you want me to get him?” Grace offers.

Hadley shakes her head. “Let him be. As long as Mattie’s with him, he’ll be okay.”

“You sure about this?” Grace says, her eyes trailing after them.

Instead of answering, Hadley says, “Listen to Mattie when it comes to Skipper. She knows what he needs: his medical issues, his allergies, the condition with his heart. She can help you, but you still need to take him to a doctor when you get settled. She’s a good girl, a good big sister, but don’t let her get all motherly on you. She does that, thinks she’s Skipper’s mom sometimes, and uses it as an excuse to not make friends of her own.”

Miles pushes off Grace’s chest like he is trying to break free.

“You can’t push her,” Hadley goes on, “but if you encourage her, she’ll surprise you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grace says, a lump lodged in her throat.

Miles kicks harder, protesting being left behind by Skipper and Mattie. Hadley takes hold of one of his little fists, then leans in to drop a lingering kiss on his head. Stepping back, she levels her gaze on Grace’s and says, “You can do this. You’re going to be fine.”

Grace looks down at Miles, then back at Hadley and lets out a heavy sigh. “Of course I can. Easy peasy.”

Hadley’s lips almost curl. “Okay, let’s not get cocky.”

“Three kids and me, international fugitives living under false identities in London? No problem. I’ve totally got this.”

“And, don’t forget, one on the way.” Hadley nods toward Grace’s belly.

“Right,” Grace says. “And one on the way.” Easy peasy.





64





HADLEY


Hadley watches as the train disappears into the gray haze and, for a long moment, stands silent as a light mist falls around her. Only when the whistle blows to signal a new train arriving does she climb back into the car, her eyes dry and strangely at peace. Her family is together and safe, and she feels calm in a way she has never experienced before.

On her way out of town, she stops at the post office. As she drops the package in the mail slot, she hopes Mark’s wife will respect her wishes and keep it private. But if she doesn’t, oh well. It will be what it will be. Again, the odd apathy—carefree or careless, as if none of it any longer matters. A shutting down or a release, whichever, she simply no longer has the energy to give a damn, her emotions plumb worn out, with nothing left to give.

As she drives, rain spits on the windshield, and she sends a silent prayer that the camouflage will keep Jimmy safe. Her wipers swish back and forth, and she finds the rhythm of the blades hypnotizing. Lost in a trance, she is thankful to Grace for planning out what Hadley needs to do, her movements switched to autopilot.

Her ankle throbs as it presses the accelerator, but she pays it no mind, her eyes scanning from the road to the speedometer to the gas gauge as her mind calculates. Jimmy drives north. She drives east. She should be halfway to her destination and the kids and Grace safely in the air when Jimmy runs out of gas.

The radio is on, and she listens intermittently as the news reports on the progress of the pursuit. The reporters use their names—Hadley, Grace, Skipper, Matilde, and Miles—as if they know them, and they talk about them as if they are truly concerned, their smooth voices full of worry as they discuss how traumatic this must be for the kids and whether they are hungry and how they will go to the bathroom.

Hadley finds herself caught up in it, fretting along with them, until she remembers it isn’t real, that they are talking about them—her and Grace, and Miles and Skipper and Mattie—but that they aren’t in the car; Jimmy is.

On and on they go, interviewing neighbors and friends and experts, anyone who might have some added insight on the story—Skipper’s teacher, a neighbor of Grace’s, one of the parking lot managers, a lawyer, a child psychologist. For the most part, everyone says nice things. Even the random strangers who are interviewed and asked their opinions are nice. Almost all of them blame the FBI and say they bungled the case. “Mother-bear instinct” gets thrown around a lot, along with “backed into a corner” and “fight or flight.”

Everyone prays for them and hopes for a peaceful resolution, one in which no one gets hurt, especially the kids.