Chapter 16

The TV network reporters came. Even some newspaper people were outside; five or six of them. Jennifer looked composed and quite pretty in a blue dress. She looked like a woman someone would want to come home to.

The TV reporter said, "We're here in Albany, Georgia to talk to the girl friend of Charles Wallace, the American hostage being held in Annistan. Jennifer Allen was with Wallace in Annistan for a period in the fall.

"Jennifer, what can you tell us about your time in Annistan and why you returned without Wallace."

She spoke clearly. "We lived in a foreigners' compound isolated from the local people. We noticed that more and more security guards were deployed in and around the compound. Some of my friends thought it wiser to leave in the likely event that the insurgency would begin terrorist activity. I agreed with them and returned."

"Why were you there?"

"To be with Charles and to attend functions where having an escort was important."

"You lived with him, then?"

"We shared an apartment."

"Why didn't he come with you?"

That surprised her. She paused to formulate her answer. "Our government put heavy pressure on his employer to keep him there to complete the power project. He knew much more about it than anyone and the government didn't want to bring someone new in. They urged him to stay for two more years and he finally agreed. I couldn't stay."

"His daughter hopes that someone can intervene to prevent his execution. Are you optimistic?"

"Intervention by local responsible leaders has been successful before. I can't give up hope."

"Thank you for talking with us today."

Just then, a reporter from a local newspaper asked, "How did you know Charles Wallace? He's from Pensacola and you live here?"

"I lived in Pensacola before moving here. I met him there."

"What brought you to Albany?"

I knew the question was innocent. The reporter was looking for a way to make the hometown look good. Jennifer came through, "I don't see what that has to do with Charles Wallace."

A woman reporter from an Atlanta paper smiled and asked, "It doesn't. We just like to make our stories more interesting with details about people. Do you have children?"

"Yes, I have a daughter. She attends Robert E. Lee School."

"This house is owned by Jordan Edwards. Are you a relative of his?"

I dreaded the next few questions.

"No, Mr. Edwards let us live here when our home was destroyed in the hurricane last summer. We are his houseguests."

Rachel drove in while the interview was in progress. She came over to me and wanted to know what those people were doing here. I explained briefly.

"Did your daughter go with you?"

"No, she stayed here with a young woman I hired to look after her."

"May we talk to her?"

She smiled and paused. "No. I think I have answered all the relevant questions about Charles. Please excuse me, I need to get back to work."

When we went inside, the reporters and TV people departed. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Cathy and Brianna were watching the TV. I said, "It will be a little while before they put it on."

Cathy said, "I want to see Mrs. Allen on TV. She looked pretty when she dressed up. I'm going to call Mom."

About two hours later, I heard, "Coming up in the next hour, we'll have interviews with the daughter and girl friend of Charles Wallace, the American contractor being held hostage in Annistan."

We watched the interviews with Olivia and Jennifer as they were edited into the program. They left the open questions in such a way as to portray Jennifer as a mystery woman.

I said, "You looked and sounded really good. I hope Charles gets a chance to see you." I hugged her, "They'll be back tomorrow, too."

Everyone knew that tomorrow was the last day of the ransom threat. Either they received their million Euros or they would execute Charles. Watching TV caused all of us to be terribly uncomfortable. As we watched, I remembered a guy I used to play golf with who had invested in a satellite dish to watch foreign programs and racier porn. I could watch Al Jazzera live if he was home and log on to their website at the same time.

I called him and told him of my problem. I didn't want Jennifer to watch Charles beheaded. Nothing good could come of it. Nothing. I knew that there was an 8 or 9-hour time difference, so I had to get about my errands early. I figured that they would show the event in prime time in the U.S. I made the plan.

Jennifer still wore her dress with an apron as she prepared our food. Brianna and Rachel helped, but Jennifer didn't want me to see her face. I made her a Scotch Old Fashioned to drink as she cooked and she seemed to enjoy it. As we sat down to dinner, I noticed that Cathy was still with us. Didn't matter. If she made Brianna feel better, so much good for that. I served the wine to those eligible. Rachel had been unusually quiet. I asked, "Are you okay?"

She smiled, and said, "Yeah. This isn't my best day." She nodded to Jennifer who was looking into space.

"I know. We're the lucky ones. To think she might have been taken, too."

Cathy, never to be left out of the conversation, said, "Mr. Edwards, I'm glad you're keeping Brianna and Mrs. Allen. I would miss them both."

When Rachel went to the kitchen to carry some dishes, I went out and said, "Anything we can do to keep her mind off this mess. She's really tight inside and I know she is in pain."

Rachel replied, "You and Brianna take care of the mess and I'll take her up to see if I can do anything. Sometimes she talks to me when we're alone." She went back and took Jennifer's hand and said, "Come with me."

They went off upstairs. Brianna said, "Come on Cathy, we need to clean up." They made no complaints about doing it.

I went to my office to see what I might find on the Internet. I found a site in which the conversation revealed that negotiations were indeed underway with the militants for Charles' release. Negotiations, yes. Progress, little. The phone rang. I answered on the first ring. It was Olivia.

"May I speak to Jennifer Allen?"

"Hold on and I'll get her."

I opened the door to the guest room and found Rachel holding her and massaging her scalp, talking softly. Jennifer looked relaxed. I said, "Jennifer, will you talk to Olivia?"

"Of course." She picked up the phone and Rachel and I went to the den.

Rachel said, "I think she's resigned to the worst case. She understands the odds. Even if he is rescued, she doesn't know what she wants to do with him. Until he left the country, he was a good match for her. She felt abandoned when he left. Daniel essentially left her alone for years and then Charles signed on to be away for two years. I think her picker is broken."

I agreed. "I can feel her hurt sometimes. Little wonder that she is depressed."

She took my face in her hands. "I know you wanted her for your girl after you rescued her. Lots of guys would throw her out for going off with Charles. We are the only stability she has right now and I hope you can hang in there."

"I plan to. I knew when I offered my home to her that it would not be quick or easy. Too many documented stories to ignore, where people got tired of their refugees. Fortunately, she does more than her share of the housekeeping and Brianna is a trooper. I'm glad to have them. She does not owe me love in exchange for her room."

Jennifer came downstairs about fifteen minutes later. She said, "Olivia saw my interview on the TV and was curious about my relationship with Charles. Apparently, he hadn't told her about my being in Annistan. She doesn't know anything new except that negotiations are underway with the kidnappers." She went over and flipped the channel to the news program. The latest offer was that the government would free ten prisoners in exchange for Charles. No ransom would be paid.

I finally talked her into watching a movie. Shortly, all of us were either on the couch or the floor watching Titanic. I chose it because it had drama, beautiful people, and was a long one. Everyone had seen it except Jennifer, which made it even better. I had both Jennifer and Rachel cuddled next to me. Out of the blue, I realized how lucky I was having these two and Brianna in my life. Rachel almost left. She will next time. I didn't know about Jennifer.

After the film, we went up to bed. I dragged Jennifer by the hand until she gave in and came along. I laid out a sleeping pill for her. "I'd like you to take this tonight. You will have a hard time getting through the night."

"Jordan, I know my situation has thrown bad Karma across this house. I'm sorry that it happened. If you'll make love to me and I don't go to sleep right afterwards, I will take the pill."

Who could turn down such an offer?

When we were in the dark she said, "I watched those beautiful people on that ship before the disaster and they made me wet."

"Did you want to fuck DiCaprio?"

"Me and about fifty million other women. How many homely, lonely, horny women out there do you suppose wore their fingers out or ran their batteries dead watching that DVD?" She cuddled next to me, "And, did you want to fuck Kate Winslet?"

"Me and about a hundred million, more or less. I still wanted her from an earlier movie."

Jennifer actually laughed. "Oh, I'll bet she could get you up in a hurry. You might even score her in the back of that car on the boat." She giggled, "Did you take her panties off?" She was stroking my limber cock.

"In my fantasies, I did all the above."

"Did she like what you did?"

"She said so."

"Do you like what I'm doing?"

"Every time you touch me is magic."

"I think I'd like this in me now. I want to sit on your belly and just feel my pussy grind against your bone and boner."

She spent easily twenty minutes grinding against me and having one orgasm after the other. I entertained myself by grasping her jiggling breasts and pinching her nipples. She dropped her head to my shoulder and whispered, "Thank you. That was what I wanted. I'll make it up to you. Hell, maybe you'll even have something left for Rachel or Brianna."

She rolled over, I cuddled her, and she was soon asleep. No pill tonight.

In my dream state, I heard knocking on my door. "Come in, Brianna. Next time, don't even knock. You wake your mother."

She said, "I was making breakfast when Cathy's mom came. She's downstairs and wants to talk to Mom. She's all dressed up."

Somehow, we dressed and staggered downstairs. Sure as hell, there sat this knockout woman in business dress having coffee at the breakfast bar. She had on a blue blazer, khaki knee-length skirt, three-inch navy pumps, and a silk scarf tie on her oxford blue shirt. She was the grownup version of Cathy. To say that she was a typical beautiful blond with blue eyes would be like saying that the Mona Lisa was a painting of an interesting woman. Beauty, poise, and savvy seemed to emanate from her being. She knew her role well.

She went to Jennifer. "I know it's early, but the wolves will be at your door all day. If you approve, I will be your spokesperson today."

She didn't hesitate. She didn't even act as if it were negotiable. "I will be your spokesperson today."

Jennifer looked at me for guidance. What the hell do I know? I said, "Listen."

"Cathy has told me more than I think she should have, but I watched the news. Then, she told me you were here waiting." She held her head back, sighed, and then said, "It will be a hard day."

Brianna refilled Sarah's coffee. Sarah went on, "I know I'm being pushy, but you are in pain and I want to keep them from you." She paused. "I'm a professional PR type at the local brewery and I have lots of experience dealing with the media. Are you okay with that?"

I asked, "Why would you?"

"Because I know how. Second, you guys take my daughter to swim meets. Third, you've never complained about her staying over. She eats here often. You never asked why."

The room was quiet. Dear little Brianna made breakfast for all of us and never once complained. I filed my reaction for later use, but she had abandoned her youth.

I was eating my blueberry pancakes when Sarah said, as she ate hers, "Okay, when we finish, we need to have a meeting. Cathy says you call them 'family meetings.'"

I remembered that Brianna and Cathy went to school today. Thank God! Rachel had classes and issues to resolve with her department.

When the scholars departed, we moved to the den. Sarah was in charge of the meeting. No doubt. She said to Jennifer, "We need to have a long talk. Tell me the truth. You tell the truth to your doctor, to your lawyer, and forever to your PR person. Do not ever leave me hanging out there."

Jennifer looked baffled. I said, "Go upstairs with Sarah and talk about your TV interview. It's important."

Jennifer said, "All right, let's go."

Sarah asked, "You got pills? She's gonna' need them when she sees that guy's head chopped off."

I almost threw up. Sarah said, "I'm going up there to dress her and rehearse what she is to say. Can you control her?"

"I've never tried. This situation is new for all of us. Cathy came down here to swim and we became friends. Brianna likes you and Cathy. Jennifer usually takes my advice, but I don't try to control her."

Sarah stiffened, and then said, "I'll do my best to keep them off her. Won't be easy. She is raw, sad, international meat for the paparazzi, and the reporters will be all over her. Beautiful woman mourns lost mate. They will have a feeding frenzy on her." She looked at me brightly. "Any real friends in the fence business?"

"Maybe."

"I want a four foot fence put around the front lawn. Then, they'll have to stand back on the sidewalk and deal with the sheriff. Get that done. Got any video stuff?"

"Sorry. It's too old."

"Borrow some so that we can document what happens."

Things happened. We had a fence. Jennifer bared her soul to Sarah, who reminded her again that she must never conceal anything from her PR person. Actually, we were almost prepared when the newsgroups arrived early afternoon.

Sarah officially opened the gate so that reporters could put their microphones on the porch on their stands. I heard her say, "Yeah, I know it's primitive, but this isn't the White House. Do your best."

She handled them politely and comfortably. She handed out an information sheet. No one was upset. I sneaked into my office and called my friend who had been watching the Al Jazzera network.

"Any news?"

"Yeah, they say they're going to behead him at about 0200 Zulu. They've given us a preview of the TV stage set with the chopping block center stage."

I went downstairs and took Sarah aside. "My contact on the network says they'll do the beheading at 0200 Zulu, which is about six local time."

Good old hard Sarah cried. She said, "Up to now, my worst moment was when they found three teenagers drunk and dead against a tree with a twelve-pack of our beer in the car. The TV showed it all." She sniffled until she could get tissues, then she squared her shoulders. "I will be okay."

The world watched. I was on my computer, connected to the Al Jazzera site. Sarah was with Jennifer upstairs holding her, tuning up her makeup, and making sure that she could say the right things. She then came downstairs and went to her makeshift podium on the front porch.

At precisely six o'clock EST, Charles was marched to the center of the stage and his head forcibly lowered to the chopping block. I could see every detail on my computer. His arms were stretched to his knees and his legs held down by one of the captors. Unless I'm mistaken, I distinctly saw him give the finger to the captors. I'll have to watch the replay.

These scenes had yet to appear on the U.S. news programs. I watched as the huge sword went through its arc and heard the dreadful thunk as the screen went to black.

I called Sarah on her cell phone and told her what I knew. She reacted at first and then seemed to drop back into her official mode. She said, "Come down here."

When I saw her, she said, "I want to put this issue down as quickly as possible. There was always a chance they would postpone the execution. Then, they could have talked to Jennifer. They didn't. We don't want those TV people out there for two weeks. So, I will go out there and say who I am and tell them that it's all over. Jennifer is in mourning."

When she went back to the podium where the microphones were, she said, "We have been notified that Charles Wallace has been executed. It will be on the Arab network soon. Jennifer is devastated and her physician has given her a sedative. She will be better tomorrow. This time is hard for all Americans who seek to aid countries in need."

She put her head back. "Charles Wallace went to Annistan to get the power system back into operation. Farmers and citizens on the outskirts of the cities also need electric power to care for their crops and families. He dedicated himself to restoring electric power to those unfortunate country dwellers who had little hope. He risked his life to bring them hope. The world will miss dedicated engineers like Charles Wallace."

Question from reporter. "When will we get to interview Mrs. Allen?"

"When her physician says that she is able to cope with the trauma. I believe it will be a while." They had several more questions about details that Sarah handled without a glitch.

Back inside, Sarah breathed deeply and collapsed on the couch. Cathy went to her and said, "Mom, when Jennifer has a big problem, she lets Jordan rub her back."

Sarah stretched out on the couch and said, "I don't ever remember being this out of sort. I feel lifeless." She slept.

The phone began ringing. First, someone wanted to talk to Jennifer about a TV show. I took numbers. Some publishing agent wanted a book exclusive. The house was in a frenzy wondering what to do next. I began to appreciate the benefits of an unlisted phone number.

Jennifer came downstairs wearing her trademark jeans, knit top, and four inches of beautiful belly showing. Brianna made coffee and we sat around waiting for the next event to happen. Jennifer showed signs of fatigue and her eyes puffed with tears still running down. I put my arms around her and held her to me. I whispered, "Would you like a drink?"

"Please, Jordan. I have some pills, but right now, I think Scotch would be better."