Authors: Clara Ward
By late afternoon they were mostly packed. Sarah sat sideways on the bed, slowly folding laundry and packing it in her bag. Reggie knew the timing wasn’t quite right for all he wanted to tell her, but there might not be a better chance. He wound up his optimism like he’d wind a music box, then he swooped beside Sarah on the bed and scooped her up in his arms.
“Hey, what’s that for?”
“I’m taking you on a picnic.”
“Now?”
“As soon as I pack the basket and you put on your flowered dress.”
“Why should I put on a dress?”
“Because I’ll be busy packing the basket, unless you feel too weak and need my assistance?”
She swatted him with the shirt she’d been folding and went to get the dress.
Reggie quickly shucked the shirt he’d been working in all day, pulling on the organdy peasant shirt he’d set aside for this occasion. Then he packed his carefully infiltrated box of cracker jacks in the bottom of the basket under several kitchen towels he didn’t expect to need. That way Sarah wouldn’t see them before the moment was right. He set the chicken to fry while he made Waldorf salad.
Sarah came out in her dress and shook her head, but she seemed to know better than to reprimand a cook. She went over to a mirrored panel and wove her short hair into tiny French braids. Reggie’s spirits rose most sincerely. Intricate braids had always fascinated him, and Sarah knew it. Now, as she wove, it was clear that hands weren’t holding all the parts. Reggie didn’t know how she did it, and he hoped it didn’t hurt around her injury, but by the time she finished her scar and the shaved patch around it were nearly invisible.
By the time her braids were tied, the kitchen tantalized with lemon and rosemary. Without much delay, Reggie packed up the food along with a blanket they could sit on. Then the two of them made an easy walk to a hill behind the Johnson’s property, and Reggie spread the blanket on the ground. A breeze would have made the scene perfect, but the thick damp air held an earthy smell with a slight tropical sweetness, and from their shady spot near the hilltop, household gardens and roads spread around them like a warm quilt.
“Is there an occasion I’ve forgotten?” Sarah teased. “It’s not the Fourth of July yet, and I don’t remember anything special in June.”
“If you’d like fireworks, I could arrange some, but since you’ve only been up and about for a couple days, I thought I’d be a gentleman.”
“You made me put on a dress so you could be a gentleman?”
“I like the way it drapes across your knees when you sit on the blanket.” He really did like it. Sarah had slid off her shoes and was sitting with her legs tucked to one side, calico rippling across her calves. She leaned on her opposite arm, tiny braids tilting toward her shoulder.
He served salad and bread, then waited until they’d licked their fingers from the chicken before mentioning the first of his plans.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
He put his arm around her, stroking along her side. She stiffened and Reggie stopped stroking and just held her close beside him. “Ever since we came here, I’ve been trying to find the most useful job I could do given our new situation. It turns out a phone call I missed, from one of the founders of PAD, may have set up the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Sarah pulled back and looked him in the eyes, but held his hands, still clearly listening.
“You see, PAD owns its own satellite network, several encryption and telecommunications patents, and a private island with some decent diplomatic claims to national sovereignty.”
“I know, I watched the business channel special with you after America banned their phones.” Sarah straightened the neck of her dress as she spoke.
“Fair enough. But have you thought how a non-profit could use those resources? Cell phones brought huge chunks of India and Africa into the twenty-first century. But the PAD technology can reach places cell phones can’t and bring the bandwidth needed for them to do business on the web. Phil’s found a way to start us truly independent of any national government, and by balancing different interests’ need for unmonitored communications, we can probably keep it that way.”
“That’s great,” Sarah smiled, her eyes still fixed on the distance. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
A serious answer about industrial espionage, how busy she’d been before her injury, and how silent afterward skimmed across the surface of Reggie’s mind, but he smiled like an artiste and said, “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”
She tilted her head again and sighed, “Congratulations.”
“Well, it’s not quite done yet. We’ve set up a network of alliances to pull together the money and work out some legal details. This all started with the near-bankruptcy of PAD and several interests who wanted to end the network and sell off its assets. But the shareholders will vote in a week or so, and with any luck we’ll be their best offer.” As a showman Reggie knew when he was losing his audience. “There’s a further possibility I hoped you’d like.”
Sarah spread her hands for him to continue. He watched her carefully, wanting to see her reaction.
“Ideally, any plan should serve more than one purpose. In addition to improving world infrastructure and protecting free communication, we have the chance to start our own mini-country. I thought, maybe you and I could move to PAD Island. It would give us a safe, independent place to live. I could use it as an umbrella organization for new NGOs. If you wanted to, we could even make it a safe haven for other teeps and teeks.”
Reggie had seen Sarah’s face begin to light up when she saw the possibilities. Then he’d seen it darken. He couldn’t bear a refrain of her recent silence, not now. Her eyes were down and she was picking at the blanket.
“What is it?”
Sarah didn’t speak. She sat, picking blanket fuzz with her fingers. When she spoke, her voice was high and sad.
“Reggie, I’m really glad you’ve made something good out of all this. I always knew you were the sort to make big things happen, and I’m glad following me to Thailand didn’t wreck that. But right now, I don’t know what sort of person I am, and I don’t think you do either.”
Reggie flashed back to when he’d righteously let Sarah leave at the end of their stint in India. Had their roles changed so completely and caught him unaware? “You’re the person I love. I want to help you reach your goals and to kiss away your worries.” He caught and kissed her hand, trying to charm her back into the mood, but her face stayed empty. “I want to buy you fanciful clothes and surprise you with chocolates and poetry. I want to carry you away to a tropical island and know you without the rest of the world.”
Sarah smiled, but the corners of her lips still turned down. “All my life, I’ve avoided being noticed, and just tried to do what I could along the way.”
Reggie reached out his hand again, but Sarah nudged it away without meeting his eyes, refusing to be interrupted. “Maybe I didn’t live up to my potential, but I told myself I did some good and very little harm. Ever since I went back to rescue the Chens, I’ve been acting like a superhero or something. And it was kind of a thrill, each time I succeeded, each time I survived. But what have I achieved? I torched a government building. I terrified an airplane’s crew. I damaged a truck and two helicopters, and cost one pilot his life. I’m lucky I didn’t get you or Emma or Aliana killed. And two governments and at least one of the Chens would probably be happy to see me dead, or worse. I can’t live this way. I can’t take these risks. I think I might lose my mind and then—then who knows what could happen.”
Reggie sat frozen. He hadn’t seen this coming. Did Sarah really feel so bad? Should he convince her to keep trying? Or could she really not handle their new lives? If he couldn’t tell whether she was saying no or just needed more time, then maybe he really didn’t know her as well as he thought. He saw his proposals, both the part about PAD Island and what he’d intended to say next, derailed.
Reggie looked down at the Johnson’s estate. The buildings with solar panels shone like water in the setting sun. The surrounding air was quickly cooling to a comfortable temperature for cuddling. Sarah sat beside him, silently picking at the blanket. Her dress was endearingly crooked on her shoulders.
Reggie could smell the remains of their chicken. There was no scent of Cracker Jacks. He’d sealed the bag with an iron when he snuck the ring into the prize packet.
“We don’t have to move to the island. I can live wherever you want and communicate by phone and email.”
“No Reggie. I’d be holding you back. I want to disappear. You want to change the world. I don’t think the two go together.”
“Don’t we go together?” Reggie asked, touching the hair at the nape of her neck and sliding his hand slowly down her back. “Can’t we keep finding ways to go together?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, looking away, looking like stone. He found his hand at rest on the blanket and didn’t know what to do with it, or what to do with himself. His father had always told him to trust his gut, and his gut told him he was losing Sarah.
They sat in silence for a moment, then gathered their picnic things and headed down the hill.
The PAD was ringing when Reggie stepped in the door. He kept hold of the basket, not wanting Sarah to unpack it and find the mystery box of Cracker Jacks. He picked up the phone, only planning to answer if it was important. The ID code showed it was Phil. Reggie glanced at Sarah. She shrugged, and he took the call.
“Reggie, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for an hour.”
“Sorry Phil. Sarah and I needed some time without the phone.”
“Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. But anyway, if this story is for real, it could be very good news for her. Some British attorney, a Mr. Radband, has been trying to contact Sarah about an inheritance—“
“British? I don’t think her mother ever went to Britain.”
“No, it’s about that guy she rescued when his car went off the road. Remember, we had a meeting here that night? Well, the solicitor didn’t say directly, but he hinted the inheritance was several million dollars.”
“What? Are you sure this is for real?”
“No, I’m not sure. That’s why I didn’t give him any information. But I said I’d ask Sarah to call him. Do you have something to write on?”
A week later, near the Bangkok airport, Reggie sat across from Sarah in the overdone lobby of an executive hotel. He wanted to be next to her, on a sofa, but she had deliberately chosen a chair. She was silent again. Since the picnic, he’d tried to show how much he cared for her, but each day she seemed to sit a little farther away.
Today he was wearing a suit and felt more like Sarah’s financial manager than anything else. First, she’d insisted he make arrangements with the attorney, who had offered to fly anywhere they specified to deliver his documents in person. So Reggie arranged this meeting. Then Sarah insisted that Emma and Aliana come along, in case the attorney was one kind of teep or the other. Howard had invited himself along, claiming that Sarah might need protection after what had happened in Chiang Mai.
So the rest of them sat shivering, underdressed for the over air-conditioned lobby, while Reggie sat stiffly in his suit, waiting to see if today would bring good fortune or intrigue.
The attorney had told them he’d wear a black bowler hat to make himself recognizable. But when Reggie saw the distinguished British gentleman enter the garish Thai lobby, he knew him at once, and the man had class. Reggie was glad to be wearing a good Italian suit. He felt his mother’s prim upper class manners cover him like armor, as he stepped forward to introduce himself.
But while he stood up gracefully, Sarah tugged herself out of an overstuffed hotel chair and said, “Mr. Radband?”
“Yes, Ms. Duncan, I presume?” Sarah nodded and they shook hands. She turned to introduce her friends. “This is Reggie Malone, who spoke with you on the phone. And these are my friends, Aliana, Emma, and Howard.”
“Indeed, I had not expected such a committee. Usually papers are presented in private.”