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Fingers crossed.
“We can do that,” Leland says with a growing agitation in his voice. “Anything else?”
“Cee. I want her brought in.”
“Justice.” Momma objects with a speed that has the hair on my arms rising. “She is a difficult case. Not only because of her anger issues, but because she comes with more baggage than you know. Adopting her could draw eyes here.”
If there’s a target on her back that’s all the more reason to keep her safe. “I need you to do that, Momma. She’s my save.” The reason I fucked up the mission. “I need her.”
There’s another long pause. “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.”
Leland jumps in. “When will you return?”
I’m tempted to say, “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything,” but I’ve gotten some major concessions and I know I’ve pushed them as far as I can, so I say, “Tomorrow,” then hang up.
63
JUSTICE
“You got this,” Sandesh whispers as we stand before the doors of the Mantua Home with the sound of a kiddie soccer game not too far away.
I squeeze his hand as the tears come. I let them fall.
For a moment, I can’t go up the steps to the house, can’t go in.
Then, with a swipe at my eyes, I finally push the doors open and step inside.
It’s like I never left. Same gym sounds floating into the foyer. Same smell of fresh flowers on the same marble table by the same split, winding staircase, and yet, everything has changed.
“Woot! Justice!” Someone calls from the gym.
I turn to see Jules smiling at me. She’s in a fighting stance with Malia, one of the Fantastic Five.
I wave and tell them, “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Malia nods and quickly brings Jules’ attention back to what seems to be a demonstration of fighting techniques for Lost in Translation, who are seated around the edges of a fighting mat.
My heart lifts, even as a pang of pain lances my heart. I missed them, my family. “See?” I tell Sandesh. “Fantastic Five is training. That means things are changing. Proof positive that I can get one more concession from Momma.”
He snorts in disbelief.
“You’ll have to back me up,” I tell my somewhat doubtful fiancé as we stroll hand-in-hand through the Mantua Home’s wide, sunlit corridors. “It’s a wedding present.”
“China is a wedding present. A toaster oven is a wedding present. Hell, aweddingis a wedding present. You’re asking for Mukta to allow Bridget to go to Jordan with the IPT. That could lead to a deeper investigation of your family ties to that mission in Syria.”
I smile, keeping pace with him, and tease, “Yeah, you people at the IPT are trouble.”
“I’m serious, Justice. The Feds are already suspicious.”
Understatement, but they’re the suspicious sort, and, sadly, not stupid. Which is why Leland wants the family to stay away from Jordan and Syria until things quiet down.
“But she asked me, Sandesh. She called and asked if she could work with the IPT there. She said she doesn’t want to be here as a constant reminder of the no-consequences-for-bad-actions thing.”
He falls silent because we both know that’s an unfair statement. Bridget has been isolated from the family, ostracized, and stripped of her privileges teaching at the school and the house, and she’s lost all security clearance below ground. Plus, her heart is as broken over Tony as mine.
“I don’t need dishes or a toaster oven. I don’t even need a wedding. I need to fix what I can in my family, so doing this for Bridget makes sense.”
I don’t say what I know he understands—that I will never be able to fix what went wrong between me and Tony, and that makes me more determined to fix the relationships I can.
