Revealed: The Missing Years
Page 75
“Yes, old times—with two children running here and there,” John replied.
She shrugged. “All right, new times, but it’ll be more private.”
John gave her a kiss, as he readied for work. “I’ll let him know.”
That evening after John came home, Harry arrived to their house. They hadn’t seen him for almost two years, yet he’d aged beyond that. His carefree appearance was hidden behind a new mask of worry and concern. His blue eyes appeared clouded with angst. John knew the burdened feeling, too well. It hadn’t been that long ago that he carried the same look. Seeing Harry reminded John that despite it all, their lives had improved.
“Harry, we’re so sorry about Amber,” Emily offered, as she led him to the screened porch. The shaded room with the softly rotating ceiling fan offered them the beauty of the outdoors with a refreshing breeze. “We’re very familiar with false accusations. Hopefully, during the trial—”
Harry shook his head, and replied, “Thank you, time will tell; however, it doesn’t look promising.”
Emily offered a reassuring hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it was a shock.”
“It was. It’s actually made me rethink a lot of my choices, kind of a life inventory.”
Just then, the shrill ring of children’s laughter resonated from beyond the porch. “The kids are playing with their nanny in the side yard,” John explained with a grin.
Light returned to Harry’s blue eyes. “I bet they’re getting big. I’ve never met your son. Michael? Is that right?”
“It is. He’s almost two. It’s hard to believe,” John said.
“And Nichol?” Harry asked.
“She’ll be three in December, and she’s beautiful,” Emily offered with pride.
“I bet she is. She has a beautiful mother.” Harry’s words carried a wave of sadness. “How is Claire doing?”
John looked at Emily, deferring to her. Even with the closest of friends she was apprehensive about sharing information.
“She hasn’t changed much since you saw her last,” Emily began. “I don’t share it with many people, but since you two were close, I will. As much as I want to be positive, most research suggests that if recovery doesn’t happen within the first twelve months, it’s unlikely.”
Harry nodded. “I’ve looked into traumatic brain injury, too.”
Taking Emily’s lead, John went on. “However, Claire’s doctor heard this professor from Princeton speak at some medical conference. He has research showing recovery as late as four years post psychotic break. The NFL and its problems with CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) has really spawned a surge in research into TBI recovery.”
“Yes, I honestly think of Claire every time I see something about it on the news,” Harry said.
“Emily’s agreed to allow this doctor to review Claire’s information and run some more tests. Once he’s done with that, we’re supposed to meet with him and hear what he has to say.”
Harry’s forehead wrinkled. “So this is good information?”
Emily feigned a grin. “We hope so, but I don’t like to get my hopes up.”
“It’s the most encouraging news we’ve heard in a while. And now it’s great to see you.”
“Yes,” Emily said, “We need to catch up, and dinner is almost ready.”
After lighthearted dinner conversation, where Nichol and Michael entertained and the adults reminisced, the three friends enjoyed a glass of wine back on the porch. “Your home is beautiful. How do you like living in Iowa?”
“Better than we expected,” Emily said. “It’s not as exciting as living in California, and I’m okay with that. It actually reminds me a lot of Indiana.”
Harry nodded. “I remember Claire saying the same thing.”
“I get the feeling you wanted to tell us something, Harry? I mean, who just comes to Iowa?” John asked.
Harry leaned forward in his chair. “I actually have a lot I want to say, but I’m thinking I should just leave instead.”
Emily’s questioning expression met John’s, before she asked, “Is it something about Amber?”
Harry inhaled. “Please, listen to everything before you comment. Let me explain it all.”
John reached for Emily’s hand. “We’re listening,” he said.
“I’m moving to North Carolina. I’ll go back to California for Amber’s trial, but like I said, I’ve been doing some re-evaluation of things. I-I, damn, this is harder than I thought.”
Emily’s voice softened. “Harry, I have no idea what you’re going to say, but it’s all right. We’re your friends. You’ve been great to us and to Claire. You can tell us anything.”
“See, that’s the thing. I haven’t been. Not really. Not to Claire and not to you. I haven’t been honest. It wasn’t that I wanted to be dishonest. It’s that it was my job. And I say was because I’ve quit my job. They call it retiring, but I’m not exactly of retirement age.”
“You quit your job with the CBI?” John asked.
“No,” Harry went on, “with the FBI. I’ve been an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation for almost ten years.”
“My grandfather was with the FBI,” Emily said. Her brows knit together. “He did undercover work. Is that what you’ve been doing? Oh, my God, is your name really Harry? Is Amber really your sister?”
She shrugged. “All right, new times, but it’ll be more private.”
John gave her a kiss, as he readied for work. “I’ll let him know.”
That evening after John came home, Harry arrived to their house. They hadn’t seen him for almost two years, yet he’d aged beyond that. His carefree appearance was hidden behind a new mask of worry and concern. His blue eyes appeared clouded with angst. John knew the burdened feeling, too well. It hadn’t been that long ago that he carried the same look. Seeing Harry reminded John that despite it all, their lives had improved.
“Harry, we’re so sorry about Amber,” Emily offered, as she led him to the screened porch. The shaded room with the softly rotating ceiling fan offered them the beauty of the outdoors with a refreshing breeze. “We’re very familiar with false accusations. Hopefully, during the trial—”
Harry shook his head, and replied, “Thank you, time will tell; however, it doesn’t look promising.”
Emily offered a reassuring hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it was a shock.”
“It was. It’s actually made me rethink a lot of my choices, kind of a life inventory.”
Just then, the shrill ring of children’s laughter resonated from beyond the porch. “The kids are playing with their nanny in the side yard,” John explained with a grin.
Light returned to Harry’s blue eyes. “I bet they’re getting big. I’ve never met your son. Michael? Is that right?”
“It is. He’s almost two. It’s hard to believe,” John said.
“And Nichol?” Harry asked.
“She’ll be three in December, and she’s beautiful,” Emily offered with pride.
“I bet she is. She has a beautiful mother.” Harry’s words carried a wave of sadness. “How is Claire doing?”
John looked at Emily, deferring to her. Even with the closest of friends she was apprehensive about sharing information.
“She hasn’t changed much since you saw her last,” Emily began. “I don’t share it with many people, but since you two were close, I will. As much as I want to be positive, most research suggests that if recovery doesn’t happen within the first twelve months, it’s unlikely.”
Harry nodded. “I’ve looked into traumatic brain injury, too.”
Taking Emily’s lead, John went on. “However, Claire’s doctor heard this professor from Princeton speak at some medical conference. He has research showing recovery as late as four years post psychotic break. The NFL and its problems with CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) has really spawned a surge in research into TBI recovery.”
“Yes, I honestly think of Claire every time I see something about it on the news,” Harry said.
“Emily’s agreed to allow this doctor to review Claire’s information and run some more tests. Once he’s done with that, we’re supposed to meet with him and hear what he has to say.”
Harry’s forehead wrinkled. “So this is good information?”
Emily feigned a grin. “We hope so, but I don’t like to get my hopes up.”
“It’s the most encouraging news we’ve heard in a while. And now it’s great to see you.”
“Yes,” Emily said, “We need to catch up, and dinner is almost ready.”
After lighthearted dinner conversation, where Nichol and Michael entertained and the adults reminisced, the three friends enjoyed a glass of wine back on the porch. “Your home is beautiful. How do you like living in Iowa?”
“Better than we expected,” Emily said. “It’s not as exciting as living in California, and I’m okay with that. It actually reminds me a lot of Indiana.”
Harry nodded. “I remember Claire saying the same thing.”
“I get the feeling you wanted to tell us something, Harry? I mean, who just comes to Iowa?” John asked.
Harry leaned forward in his chair. “I actually have a lot I want to say, but I’m thinking I should just leave instead.”
Emily’s questioning expression met John’s, before she asked, “Is it something about Amber?”
Harry inhaled. “Please, listen to everything before you comment. Let me explain it all.”
John reached for Emily’s hand. “We’re listening,” he said.
“I’m moving to North Carolina. I’ll go back to California for Amber’s trial, but like I said, I’ve been doing some re-evaluation of things. I-I, damn, this is harder than I thought.”
Emily’s voice softened. “Harry, I have no idea what you’re going to say, but it’s all right. We’re your friends. You’ve been great to us and to Claire. You can tell us anything.”
“See, that’s the thing. I haven’t been. Not really. Not to Claire and not to you. I haven’t been honest. It wasn’t that I wanted to be dishonest. It’s that it was my job. And I say was because I’ve quit my job. They call it retiring, but I’m not exactly of retirement age.”
“You quit your job with the CBI?” John asked.
“No,” Harry went on, “with the FBI. I’ve been an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation for almost ten years.”
“My grandfather was with the FBI,” Emily said. Her brows knit together. “He did undercover work. Is that what you’ve been doing? Oh, my God, is your name really Harry? Is Amber really your sister?”
