The Diplomat's Wife(101)

“Apparently an American intelligence operative. Michael something-or-other.”

He called Paul by his assumed cover identity, I note with relief. He does not know that the man on the ship is the same man I was engaged to before we were married. “Can I see him? To thank him, I mean.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They transferred him to a military hospital for surgery.” My stomach twists. “Would you like me to find out how he’s doing?”

“Please.” I struggle to keep my voice even. Then I notice a vase of fresh-cut flowers on the nightstand. “Did you bring those?”

“I wish I could take credit, but those are from the D.M. He sends his tremendous gratitude and congratulations on a job well done.”

I look back at him. “The mission was a success?”

Simon nods. “The medics found the cipher on you when they brought you in and turned it over to me. It’s being used to decode the list as we speak. Marcelitis has already been in touch with the embassy and is helping us to identify key contacts throughout Eastern Europe. And the Americans are very excited to work with us on this, too.” He pauses, cocking his head. “How did you and that Michael fellow meet up anyway?”

In a prison in Salzburg, I think. “It’s a long story,” I say aloud. “Would you mind if we talked about it later?”

“Of course, you must still be exhausted. There will be plenty of time for debriefing once you’ve been home and had a chance to rest.”

Home. “Where’s Rachel? How is she?”

“She’s with Delia and doing just fine.”

“Delia,” I repeat slowly. “Does she know?”

Simon shakes his head. “Only that you are in the hospital. She thinks you took ill while tending to my aunt.” I wince inwardly at the lie, further compounded. “Anyway, Rachel is fine,” he continues. “She’ll be very excited to see you, I’m sure. She’s invited to a birthday party this weekend.”

I gaze out the window, across the road at the rolling fields, blanketed in thick fog. Children’s birthday parties. Two days ago I was running from the police in Berlin. With Paul. It seems like another lifetime. In my mind’s eye, his face grows fainter, like a dream. Then I look back up at Simon. “When can I go home?”



I settle against the sofa cushion and adjust the blanket that is draped over my legs. Then I pick up the still-warm cup of tea Delia brought me and look out the window. Outside Delia and Rachel play with a ball on the front lawn. As if she knows she is being watched, Rachel looks back over her shoulder and smiles widely at me. Even from this distance, I can see the flash of white where a new baby tooth has started to come in. I missed that while I was away. Swallowing my guilt, I wave and blow her a kiss.

I lean back once more, looking across the room to the fire that burns brightly in the fireplace. It has been nearly three weeks since I woke up in the hospital. Simon was right—there was nothing wrong with me other than a little dehydration, and I was discharged the following day. I could have gone back to work almost immediately, but Simon insisted that I take a few weeks off to rest and recover. At first I resisted, thinking of Jan and the others, the promises we made to help them. “You’ve done your part,” Simon said. “Let others pick up the baton.” So reluctantly, I agreed to a brief sabbatical. Delia still came every day, again at Simon’s insistence, to keep me company and help care for Rachel. But I spend almost all of my time playing with Rachel or watching her. She seems completely unaffected by my absence, which bothers me a bit in a selfish way. She does not understand how close I came to not making it home. I will go back to work in time, but I know that I will never leave her like that again.

A few minutes later, I watch as Delia scoops up Rachel and carries her into the house. Rachel pouts, her tiny upper lip quivering. “What’s wrong, darling?” I ask as Delia brings her over to me.

“She didn’t want to come in.” Delia answers for Rachel who, still bundled, points out the window. “She was hoping that Sammie would come out and play with her after he returns from nursery.” Sammie, the little boy across the street, is almost three. I look at Rachel in amazement. Can she really have a crush at her age? Delia continues, “But the sun is going down and it’s getting colder. She needs a bath before bed.”

I smile. Delia keeps Rachel’s schedule with the efficiency of a general. “You can play outside again tomorrow,” I say to Rachel. “Maybe Mama will even join you. Now, give me a kiss.”

Delia lowers Rachel and I kiss her cold cheek, inhaling the smell of fresh earth in her dark, curly hair. In the kitchen, the telephone rings. Delia looks over her shoulder. “I should get that.” I know she worries about Charles, home alone all day with only Ruff for company.

“Here,” I say, taking Rachel from Delia. “I’ll hold her.” Rachel settles against my chest, babbling.

“Hello?” I hear Delia say in the other room as I unbutton Rachel’s coat. “Hello?” There is silence followed by a click. A moment later, she reappears in the doorway.

“No one there?” I ask. She nods. “Strange.”

“It happened once yesterday, as well,” she says as she crosses the room to me. “I meant to tell you.”

I shrug. “Probably just a wrong number. If it happens again, I’ll call the phone company.”