Part I

Chapter 1

May 1974

Washington, DC

In the quiet wood-paneled room on the second floor of the Supreme Court Building, Senator Temple waited for his stepbrother, the judge, to arrive. Shelves lined the walls, books on law and the constitution arranged according to topic, but Temple’s attention was on the leather-bound journal in his hands. So many things to jot down, incidents to record… there was an entire collection of such diaries in his library at home, all safely locked in a vault. The secrets contained in those pages were not for another set of eyes… at least not until the people involved were long dead and gone. Still, the tales needed to be recorded for posterity. Then there were those secrets he didn’t dare write down, truths which could destroy entire families and alter the existing power structure.

There was a barely audible squeak behind. Someone was at the glass door to the judge’s office, pushing it open. Without turning to check the person’s identity, Temple tucked the journal inside his blazer and picked up the thick tome from the desk. Casually, he leafed through Arthashastra, the discourse on statecraft written centuries ago in India. The author paid gold coins to be granted custody of an impoverished boy and installed him on the throne of an empire. Rumor had it the mentor did the ruling from behind the throne. Temple inhaled the sweet, musky smell of the old pages and smiled on the thought he shared a few traits with the author.

Arrayed in black robes, Supreme Court Justice Godwin Kingsley strode to the desk and settled into his chair before uttering a crisp “good morning.” Like the rest of the Kingsley men, he was tall. The silvery hair drawn back into a low ponytail should’ve brought comments in a supreme court justice. There was also the white beard, neatly trimmed. Such was his stature in the country’s judicial system that no one ever dreamed of castigating him for the eccentricities. Not to mention the powerful position he occupied as president of Kingsley Corp, one of the foremost oil services businesses in the nation. Gray eyes steely, Godwin demanded, “Tell me more about Delilah.”

“Lilah,” Temple corrected. “Most people call her Lilah. You read the papers I sent over. All the info you need is in the folder. Wait until your grandsons meet her. They’ll be fighting—more than they do now—for an introduction.”

Blood flowed blue in the veins of the Kingsleys, but they weren’t exactly known for their classy conduct or their kindness toward each other. Godwin’s grandsons were only in their twenties, and they were already butting heads over eventual control of the family business. The young men were likely to tear each other to pieces over the stunning seventeen-year-old girl Temple would soon introduce to them. Their crude behavior was not going to endear them to Lilah. Plus, there was Harry, the boy she grew up with. Every piece on the chessboard needed to be moved into place. “Beauty’s fine,” Godwin stated, “but blood and background are more important.”

“Which century are you living in?” Temple asked, not bothering to hide his amusement. “My mother came from common stock, and your father had no problem marrying her.” Besides, the young lady under discussion might not be aristocracy, but her father was an ambassador. Her mother—an Indian woman—was a United Nations lawyer who met and married the widowed American diplomat in Bombay. Ambassador Sheppard had been retired for a few years by the time he and Lilah’s mother died in a plane crash. “You know the Sheppards well, and Lilah’s Indian cousins are all in respectable positions. Military officers, bankers, civil servants… professionals.”

“Upper middle class,” brooded Godwin. “The same as her father.”

“Yes, but she was adopted by Andrew Barrons. Not too many men more pedigreed than him.” The Barronses were not merely rich; they could trace their ancestry back to the Normans who conquered England. Class hadn’t mattered to Andrew when he married the ambassador’s daughter with his first wife. In Andrew’s rarefied situation, anything out of the ordinary, such as marrying a few rungs below, would merely be thought of as an allowable indulgence. When Ambassador Sheppard and his second wife were killed, their then-fifteen-year-old twins—Lilah and Dan—were adopted by their half-sister and her husband. “Godwin, Lilah is now Delilah Sheppard Barrons. As Andrew’s daughter, she is aristocracy.”

Tugging open a drawer, Godwin brought out a thin folder and flipped it open. “She’s also smart… and ambitious.” He tossed the folder onto the table and rocked back in the chair, raising an appreciative eyebrow.

Lilah was headed to MIT in the fall for chemical engineering. Her sights were set on law school after undergrad. The senator nodded. “There you go—intelligence and drive along with the Barrons money and lineage.”

Godwin appeared slightly mollified, but Temple didn’t give a damn about the nobility of Lilah’s blood. He’d picked the right person as the intended ruler of their corporate empire. She was perfectly positioned to dethrone the current tyrant ruling the oil and gas business.

Temple’s eyes went to the book on his lap, the ancient treatise on politics and governance. Godwin had spotted a copy in the original language and called Temple. This volume completed Temple’s collection. It would occupy the empty space in his library next to The Art of War and The Prince. There was another work, the meditations of an ancient philosopher-king. He once mused the rise and fall of past empires could foretell the future. Temple could not let the mistakes of those who went before be repeated. The new leaders would rule wisely and not let power corrupt them.

“The girl does present us with an extraordinary opportunity,” Godwin murmured. Through her and one of his grandsons, the Kingsleys, the Barronses, and the Sheppards would once again be allied against a common enemy. They would defeat the criminal emperor of the energy sector. “Have you mentioned anything to her?”

“No,” said Temple, immediately. “We have to give her some time before bringing it up. She needs a couple of years to mature a bit.” The delay would give Lilah the break she needed to recover from the trauma of recent events. She would also get a chance to see the world beyond her youthful dreams, to understand what was at stake.

“Not just her.” Godwin again tugged open a drawer and took out a small chessboard. “My grandsons, too. You, me… every piece has to be in its place.”

Temple wasn’t even slightly startled at Godwin echoing his own previous thoughts. When they met as stepbrothers, both were in their teens and bonded over chess. “Lilah likes to decide her own place,” Temple mused.

“The arrogance of youth,” Godwin said brusquely. “Look at my grandsons. I’m hoping four years in college will be enough to whip them into shape. Even then, we’re going to have work to do.”

The young men were all at the United States Military Academy in West Point as per family tradition. “Money and arrogance usually go hand in hand,” Temple pointed out, laughing. “The army will take care of them. Lilah is… she’s unique.” She required a different approach. Then there was Harry.

Lilah’s biological father—the deceased ambassador—and Harry’s were business partners and shared the same last name. The blood connection between the families was extremely remote… an ancestor back in the sixteen-hundreds from what Temple heard. Despite the tenuousness of the link, the men were close, and their kids grew up together. That Harry and Lilah saw a future with each other was clear to anyone who cared to look. Not long after the deaths of Lilah’s parents, Harry’s family lost the business to the criminal who took over the oil sector, and they were chased out of Libya, where they’d lived for nearly two decades. The seventeen-year-old boy was targeted by the enemy as punishment for his father. Lilah suffered horribly merely for being at Harry’s side when he was snatched by hired thugs. The way he and Lilah engineered their escape was nothing short of miraculous.

Two determined young people… it wouldn’t be easy to persuade either into cooperating with Temple’s plans, but it was the only way to defeat the enemy. The Sheppards wanted payback, but the man responsible for their torments was shrewd, his power and cunning helping him stay beyond the reach of the law. Temple swore he would see justice done. So did the Kingsleys and the Barronses, who finally put greed and old grudges aside, acknowledging the plain fact they wouldn’t be too far behind on the criminal’s list. Individually, all three clans were sure to lose, but together, they could win the war.

Soon, Harry and Lilah would be told an alliance brought about through Delilah Sheppard Barrons and one of the Kingsley grandsons was needed to take on their common adversary. With the survival of the companies at stake, Lilah’s feelings or Harry’s couldn’t matter.

Godwin pushed the chessboard to the middle of the desk. “Game?”

Temple nodded to himself. It wouldn’t be easy, but he knew exactly what moves to make. Oh, yes. Both Harry and Lilah would comply with Temple’s instructions. They would help him usher in a new beginning for the world, a new life… a new empire.

Chapter 2

Two weeks later, May 1974

New York, New York

Hefting the two pieces of luggage into the sleeper car of the Amtrak train, Harry tucked the boxes close to the reclining chairs. Thank God, he was the only person in the roomette. He didn’t feel like company today. Flicking imaginary dust from his jeans and old blue tee, he glanced at his watch. There were a few minutes remaining for him to say his goodbyes. Harry returned to the narrow hallway and winked at a bawling toddler as he squeezed past the kid and his hassled mother to the door of the car.

Indecipherable announcements from the train station’s overhead system greeted Harry when he jumped out to join the small group of people on the platform. The whole family was present to see him off to the SEAL training program… his parents, baby sister… Harry’s older brother just left to buy himself some soda.

God, Harry was ready to kill for an ice-cold drink. It was so damned hot even his sandaled feet were sweaty. Tugging at his collar, he nodded at his parents. “Mother, Father.” He could barely make himself heard over the chatter and laughter of the men and women and children swarming the waiting area next to the railway tracks.

Teary-eyed, Harry’s mother enveloped him in a hug. Ten-year-old Sabrina, a miniature version of their mother with her bright blonde hair and green eyes, was too busy gawking at the locomotive to pay attention to Harry. Freeing himself from maternal embrace, Harry called, “Hey, Runt.”

Before Mother completed her exclamation of annoyance, Sabrina’s head swiveled toward him. Nostrils quivering in outrage, she snapped, “I am not a runt. Tell him, Mother!”

“Yeah, you are,” Harry teased. At six-foot-four, he towered over little Sabrina. Tugging gently at her fat pigtail, he said, “I won’t be back for a while, kiddo.” First, boot camp in Illinois. Then, the pre-training. Finally, BUD/S training and the rest of it. “Who am I going to pester in the navy?”

The annoyance on her plump face vanished, and with a high-pitched wail, she threw her arms around Harry’s waist.

“You two,” grumbled their father, combing fingers through dark hair very much like Harry’s except for the ample amount of gray. The brown eyes now sported wrinkles all around. Both the Sheppard parents aged rapidly during the ordeal the family went through. More than a year of harassment from Libyan authorities culminated in Harry’s abduction, all at the behest of the criminal oilman, Jared Sanders. There was nothing the American government could do to Sanders. No proof, claimed the feds. The Sheppards were told to shut the hell up unless they could hand over irrefutable evidence. Unverifiable accusations thrown at a billion-dollar business like Sanders, Incorporated could destroy the already-tanking stock market while doing nothing to put away the criminal for good.

Their family was only one of many which were devastated by Sanders’s hunger for power. Senator Temple vowed he’d do something about it and even promised he’d contact Harry regarding some plans. Soon, the seventeen-year-old muttered in his mind. There would be justice for all of Sanders’s victims, including Lilah. He might not have been directly involved in the assault on her, but the kidnapping he arranged led to it.

Concealing the smoldering anger with a grin, Harry patted his sister on her shoulder. “Take care of the old folks.”

The two people at the back of the group waited patiently for him to get to them. Bumping fists with Daniel Barrons—Lilah’s twin and newly adopted son of Andrew Barrons—Harry asked, “All set for West Point?” Dan was about to start his freshman year at the military academy.

“More or less.” Inclining his dark head toward his sister, Dan said, “Got to drop Lilah off at the dorms first.”

Harry nodded and turned to the last person. Lilah’s hazel eyes were wide and fixed on him, and her teeth bit down hard on her lower lip, leaving it as red as her clothes and shoes.

Awkwardly, he reached out to hold her by her upper arms and pull her into a hug. Lilah’s palms landed just as clumsily on his shoulders. Tendrils of slightly wavy, dark hair teased his nostrils, the color of her locks so black it glinted blue under the lights. He breathed deep, trying to imprint his brain with the crazy sexy scent of her perfume.

Within the security of his loose embrace, Lilah palpably relaxed. The edginess would return as soon as he let her go.

Mentally, Harry kicked himself good and hard. He could damned well wait for a kiss. Time… she needed time to heal from wounds both visible and invisible.

Forcing himself to release his hold, Harry managed another smile. “I’ll call… and we’ll write every week.”

Voice raspy even months after the fire they escaped in Libya, Lilah blurted, “I’ll send you baklava.”

“Heh?” Granted, he binged on the sweet every chance he got, but—

She stuck her tongue out. “I saw this Middle Eastern café near MIT when I visited. I’m gonna be remembering you every time I pass the place.”

Injecting comical dismay into his tone, he asked, “Only when you see the café?” As she laughed, the train hissed. A heavyset man in a conductor’s uniform trudged up and down the platform with a clipboard in his hands, shouting out a warning for all passengers to climb on board. “Gotta go,” Harry murmured.

Without saying a word, Lilah nodded.

A loud whistle blew as Harry leaped in and peered through the window. He continued to stare as the train chugged out, watching the group getting smaller and smaller, watching Lilah stay in the same spot even as the rest moved away.

“I’ll be back,” he declared, but there was no one around to hear. Three years, and he’d be done with his training.

He returned to his chair and tried to focus on the paperback he bought the day before, but he barely saw the words. The train sped past buildings, factories, and grasslands, tooting the horn when approaching railway crossings. The whistle reverberated in the air, and he imagined the sound echoing down the tracks already traversed, all the way to New York City where Lilah waited.

Chapter 3

Months later, November 1974

Cambridge, Massachusetts

A weight landed on her shoulder and whirled her around. A scream broke, only to be smothered by the hand slamming over her mouth. The obscene name, the order to shut up—or else. The teeth on her lip, biting down. The taste of blood. Tears… screams… a hard slap on her cheek. The ripping sound of her robe tearing.

“No,” screamed Lilah, jerking up in bed. Darkness. Pitch-black darkness. The monster was near. Her arms flailed, struggling ineffectually to escape the terrifying night.

“What—who—” shouted the startled voice of her roommate. A click later, yellow light flooded the room. “What’s going on?” the girl asked, her eyes darting frantically around.

Lilah panted short, sharp breaths. Huh? The dorm room? On MIT campus? She wasn’t in Libya. There was no monster, only a scared and confused roommate. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her erratic pulse slowly settling into an even rhythm. “Bad dream… didn’t mean to wake you.”

After a few seconds of gawking in silence, the girl—an architecture major—collapsed back onto the mattress. “Shit… I thought someone was about to murder us. Dreaming! It’s all the raw meat you ate. You should’ve asked for baked kibbeh like I did.” She scrambled up and pulled open the side table drawer. “I have some weed if you want… only enough for one joint, but we could share. It will settle your stomach.”

“Thanks,” Lilah said, mustering a weak smile. “But I’m okay.”

Shrugging, the budding architect said, “Suit yourself. I need something to calm my nerves… the way you screamed!”

Sweet-smelling smoke swirled around the room as Lilah tugged the comforter up to her chin. Her fingers trembled slightly before she curled them into fists. Every night this week, she woke mere moments before the screams managed to escape the confines of her mind. Every. Single. Darned. Night. This time, she couldn’t stop the terror from taking over. She knew why. It was getting closer and closer to the one-year mark of her trip to Libya to celebrate Thanksgiving with Harry and his family, not knowing what awaited her in the country.

In a couple of days, the rest of the students would head to their homes to spend yet another Thanksgiving with their families. Lilah would be one of the few left on campus, fending off horrific memories with only her twin’s calls for support. Dan phoned daily the last two weeks to check on her.

Lilah glanced toward the desk calendar. The one person who she believed would’ve been on the phone with her every day hadn’t called at all in five months. They talked right after he got to boot camp, and he said something about waiting for Senator Temple. Since then… zilch.

God, Harry… what is going on with you? Lilah fretted.

Another attempt by Sanders, accident, illness… every calamity that could befall Harry ran through her mind as each week passed without hearing from him.

He did write, his too-short notes claiming the breaks he got weren’t long enough even to take a piss. But if she could talk to him at least once… whenever she tried to reach him at the naval training facility, a stern masculine voice always informed her Harry wasn’t available at the moment.

Her phone would ring over the holidays, Lilah assured herself. Like her, Harry would be remembering what happened this time last year. No way would he not call.

#

“Instant noodles,” Lilah muttered, trying to get comfortable in the secondhand rolling chair next to the desk.

“You know you could’ve gone home,” Dan said over the line, making slurping noises. “Turkey and trimmings and apple pie.”

“Sure… with Andrew and Caroline. When was the last time they actually wanted me around?” Andrew Barrons and his wife—Lilah’s half-sister—were unlikely to remember her existence no matter what day it was. To them, she was merely the girl they adopted out of obligation. “I would’ve gone if you were there.”

“They’re not bad people,” Dan insisted. “It’s just… they look at things differently.”

“Not where you’re concerned,” Lilah retorted. The Barronses would’ve thrown a huge party if Dan made it home. He was their beloved prince, the heir apparent to Andrew’s business holdings.

Not that Lilah was some kind of an ill-treated orphan. She and Dan got the same monthly checks from Andrew’s secretary, but Lilah regularly returned hers with a “thank you, but not necessary.” She was nearly eighteen, old enough to take care of herself. Almost the entirety of her parents’ savings had been invested in Genesis, the Sheppards’ oil drilling company. That money was gone, and the stock she got in the family’s new business was worth close to nothing at the moment. There were death benefits from her parents’ jobs and the small amount of cash in the bank, but those funds were intended as financial cushion for both her and her brother. Didn’t matter. Lilah had her scholarship and the part-time job at the campus bookstore. She didn’t need Andrew’s charity.

Dan chatted with her for a good fifteen minutes. Toward the end of their conversation, his tone turned tense. “You doing okay?” he asked. “I really wish I could’ve made it home.”

Suddenly, acutely, Lilah also wanted to go home. To Brooklyn, that is. To the brownstone she and her twin lived in when their parents were alive. “I miss you, Danny,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “You and Papa and Mama.”

“We’ll go to Green-Wood on Christmas,” Dan promised, a small catch in his voice. They’d visit their parents’ graves.

“Sorry,” said Lilah, sniffing. “Didn’t mean to start bawling.” They stayed on the line for another minute before hanging up.

All that was left on her agenda for the rest of the day was talking to Harry. Lilah had already managed to connect with Shawn—Andrew’s biological son—very early in the morning and for a very short time. Boston to New York rates were much lower before daybreak, and Shawn, too, needed to be careful about cash, having been disinherited for coming out as gay. There were two very dear friends from high school she kept in touch with, but Ginger was vacationing with the flavor of the month, and Vivian was on her way to some hotelier conference with her parents.

Lilah glanced at the alarm clock on the side table, wondering if she should make yet another attempt at calling Harry. No, the staff there was soon going to laugh behind his back about his clingy girlfriend. Harry would probably call after eleven at night when rates dropped.

Dragging the thermodynamics textbook out, Lilah flipped it open. Extra classes meant extra hard work, or she’d fail miserably.

Open and closed systems, chemical reaction equilibrium, phase equilibrium… God only knew when she dozed off, but the crick in the back of her neck finally woke her. Lilah massaged her sore muscles and squinted at the clock. After five in the morning? She wouldn’t have missed hearing the shrill scream of the phone.

Showering and shoving cereal into her mouth and tidying the appalling mess of a room kept her occupied until it was a reasonable hour in California, where the SEAL training facility was located. The stern-voiced secretary who always answered the main number told her to hang on.

“C’mon,” Lilah muttered after a good ten minutes went by. How long did it take to get one of the trainees from the dorm… boot camp… whatever… on a weekend? Also, didn’t the office close for the holidays? She could hear sounds of work at the other end of the line—the rapid taka, taka, taka, whirr of a typewriter, masculine laughter.

A clatter came over the line. “Miss Barrons?” asked the same stern man. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” she said before clearing her throat. Her voice was hoarser than usual. The family physician she used to see said it would never return to what it was before the kidnapping. She’d led Melanthios—Sanders’s thug who was chasing her and Harry—to a minefield, causing his death. She still needed to run through a burning gate to cross the border to Egypt, resulting in a permanently raspy voice from smoke damage. “I can call back if now’s not a good time—”

“That will not be possible. Candidate Sheppard is out on a job.”

“A job?” Lilah asked, puzzled. “Harry’s only a trainee. What kind of job is he doing?”

“Sorry,” said the secretary. “It’s confidential.”

“But—” The high-pitched dial tone told her the man had hung up.

Huffing in frustration, Lilah set the receiver back. If the SEAL program sent their trainees on fieldwork or something, it could explain his radio silence even on this weekend. Lilah rubbed her temple with fingertips, but the niggle behind her brow refused to be soothed.

#

“No,” Lilah screamed, pivoting on her left foot and ramming her right leg into the kick shield held by the instructor, a former marine.

“Keep going,” said the instructor.

Sweat-soaked tendrils of hair hanging loose in front of her eyes, she went down the line of students and threw kick after kick at the shields. “No!” she shouted with each one.

One, two jabs with her sparring partner… blocking exercises… every aching muscle in her body meant more power, better endurance. The yellow tank top darkened with perspiration. Under the gray leggings, her thighs itched.

When the instructor called for attention, she jogged to her spot at one end of the row of students and watched the former marine and his assistant demonstrate a move. Someday, she vowed. She would be strong enough, skilled enough to spar with the instructor himself.

A couple of hours later, she was shoving her arms into the maroon track jacket. She was lucky the gym was open the day after Thanksgiving. The gun club she’d joined was next door, but they were closed until Monday. Two major expenses every week, but it couldn’t be helped. No way would she be a victim ever again.

Harry would learn from the SEAL program how to… what kind of work were they making him do before he even completed his training? And to keep him sooo busy he didn’t have a minute to spare for his friends?! Stop, she ordered herself. Harry was in the military, and his responsibilities to the nation sometimes would take precedence over talking to his girlfriend. Lilah needed to get the idea into her thick head. She had her own stuff to do. Unfortunately, the bookstore where she worked part time was also closed until the week after, and none of the extra classes she signed up for were on. A movie, perhaps? But there was nothing she wanted to watch.

Pursing her lips, Lilah blew out a breath and strode to the exit. Chilly air struck her sweaty face, making her teeth chatter. The bus stop… only three people waited there. She shrugged. Maybe a five-mile run back to the residence hall would clear her mind. The backpack was light enough to hang on her shoulders while she jogged.

“Good job today, Lilah,” called a voice. The instructor was standing next to his car. “There was more power in your kicks. How are the shooting lessons going?”

Not good enough, Lilah thought. Her bullets now found their way to the middle rings. Better than where she was when she started, but…

They chatted for a couple of minutes before she excused herself and started on her run. The instructor was too professional, too military, to show curiosity, but the people at the gym and the range surely knew their students sometimes came with pasts. Only, Lilah’s had been buried too deeply for anyone to find out.

Even her friends didn’t have a clue she was kidnapped with Harry. No one outside the government and Lilah’s immediate family did. The feds warned billionaire oil driller Andrew Barrons not to further damage the already-hurting American economy by throwing accusations of kidnapping at another billion-dollar enterprise like Sanders, Incorporated unless he possessed solid proof. Andrew was only too happy to oblige. He wasn’t gonna risk his precious business for anything, especially not when the government assured all concerned another attempt to snatch Lilah was unlikely as long as she stayed safe within U.S. borders. There was also the fact she’d gotten in Sanders’s way purely by chance, and the criminal appeared unconcerned by her continued existence.

The Barronses parroted the story crafted by the authorities that Lilah was heading back home from Libya when Harry was kidnapped. And yeah… she caught some kind of exotic illness and ended up quarantined for months. Everyone else involved was forced to go along with the lies.

Small-timers the Sheppards might be, but the news of Harry’s abduction and subsequent escape did leak and merited at least one para in the bigger papers. As far as most of the public knew, the Gaddafi government bore the sole responsibility for the crime. The Libyans apparently heartily agreed about not accusing Sanders since it would upset their economy as well. None of the restrictions stopped rumors from circulating about Sanders and Genesis, the Sheppards’ old oil drilling business. Then there were the couple of accidents Sanders arranged for the boy who escaped his clutches, but Senator Temple forced a police investigation which put a stop to the attempts. Plus, the navy surely wouldn’t let anything happen to one of their recruits. Harry was also safe for now.

As Lilah continued her run, a large, colonnaded building came into view. MIT’s Great Dome. Already? Veering from her path, Lilah jogged toward the entrance. Instead of moping around in her room, she could just as well sit in the library amid other students who didn’t get to go home for the holidays.

Weirdly, reading through old editions of the Journal of the Society of Petroleum Evaluation Engineers helped her pass the rest of the holidays in peace. Plus, she knew there was a perfectly good explanation for Harry’s silence—his job.

No one other than Harry knew all the details of what happened to Lilah last Thanksgiving, not even Dan. Certainly not the U.S. government. There was the shrink who counseled her after she returned to the States, but all they talked about was the abduction. The man still tried to push a ton of pills at her. Even if he didn’t, Lilah simply couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the assault. She couldn’t tell anyone… not until she was ready to confront the monster who did it. She’d punish the rapist for his crime. The criminal driller behind the abduction would also pay. Only then could she and Harry erase those horrible months from memory.

Still, Lilah’s future plans were back on track. MIT was only the beginning. Chemical engineering, an oil sector job to pay the bills… then, the law degree she’d dreamed of since she was old enough to think of such things. Someday, she’d get herself to the supreme court. She did put her life back together. So did Harry.

#

Two weeks later

Lilah hurried out of the residence hall into the frigid air and the crowd of noisy students thronging the street. Turning the envelope over, she eyed the air force postal service mark. Strange. Harry’s letters were usually sent through the fleet post office. She glanced again at the sheet of paper with weird brown patches which looked like spilled soda.

Relief. The near-constant tightness in her temples disintegrating with unbelievable suddenness, Lilah glanced heavenward. She’d write back in the evening. The Christmas gift she purchased from the bookstore with her employee discount was still on the desk in her room, ready to be mailed as soon as she got a chance to do a post office run. She’d scoured the entire inventory before deciding on Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Harry practically devoured spy novels. She’d also included a special something inside the front cover—a blurry picture of him with her and Dan and the twins’ parents in their Brooklyn home, taken by Harry’s sister, Sabrina.

A sharp pang went through Lilah’s heart as she tucked the letter and envelope into her jacket. Backpack bouncing against her spine, she sprinted to the chess club meeting and told herself the renewed wetness on her cheeks was from the cold. She was going to remember the happiness of the moment captured on film, not what happened merely days later.

It wasn’t as though Harry didn’t put effort into his gift. A bottle of her favorite perfume was sitting on her desk—Egyptian blue lotus oil. He used to buy it for her at the market in Libya. God only knew where he managed to get it now… and how much it cost. Lilah bit her lip hard. Simply a call every other month would be good enough for her. She could phone him in the months between.

Plucking the letter out of her jacket, she reread the words. All her worry was for nothing. Harry was fine.