Twenty-Four
I'm headed to Arlington Hall Station in Virginia,"Mackenzie told her family, a huge smile on herface.
"What's the work?" Jack wanted to know.
"Army Intelligence and Security."
Marrell had already known this but the realization finally struck her.
"What's the matter, Mom?" Delancey asked, having just caught her mother's look.
"Your sister is going into national security," Marrell said softly.
"Is that what it is, Mic?"
"Yes, D.J."
"Can you tell us how this happened, Mackenzie?" Marrell asked. "Or is it hush-hush?"
"It's not hush-hush at all, Mom. I would have written you, but I had a chance for leave. I don't know when I'll get my next one, so I just came to tell you in person."
"Explain to me why it's such a surprise, Marrell," Jack asked. He thought he might understand but wanted a full picture.
"It's more the honor of the situation than any type of danger. For obvious reasons, national security is a tight field." Marrell looked at her daughter and smiled. "You might not have as much to write about in your future letters."
Mackenzie nodded. "It is an honor, and I'm excited about it, but you're right-it's not without its limitations."
"Tell us how it happened, Mic," Delancey pressed her.
Mackenzie nodded. "It was going well in Indiana, but it wasn't anywhere near as challenging as I had expected. One of my instructors asked to see me, and that was the first of four
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interviews. I know they reviewed my records, and I was certainly asked a lot of questions. Then they asked if I was willing to cut the finance training short and go to Arlington. I made myself think about it, but I wanted to say yes on the spot."
"When do you report?"
"The Wednesday after I get back."
"Thank you for coming home, Micki," Jack said softly. "This wouldn't have been nearly as special to learn about in a letter."
She smiled at the stepfather she adored and asked, "Will you come to visit me?"
"Yes, we will. We'd even talked about coming to Indiana but then thought it might be better to wait until after your schooling."
"I didn't think that," Delancey put in firmly, and Mackenzie laughed.
"You have too much time on your hands, Deej."
The younger girl looked thunderstruck, but Mackenzie did not let up.
"Now if you join the Army, you won't have time to miss anyone."
"All right, Mic," her mother cut in. "Let's not overdo this."
Mackenzie only grinned unrepentantly.
"You've got some nerve, Mackenzie Rose Bishop," Delancey came back at her. "You wrote back and told me that we would probably never see each other if I joined."
"And that's true, D.J., but at least you wouldn't have time to miss me."
Delancey snorted. "That's a great consolation."
"What was your favorite part about basic training?" Jack interjected, stemming the other conversation with a well-timed question.
"Graduation," Mackenzie joked. "No, I think I liked the fact that my dad was stationed there. It gave me time to think about him, although not much time, since they keep you so busy. But when I'd see troops of men somewhere, I would picture him, and I liked that."
"Do you have any idea how long you'll be in Virginia?" Marrell asked.
"No, not right now. There is a chance that I won't be what they're looking for, but that's all speculation at this point."
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"What exactly are they looking for?" Delancey asked.
"I think someone who catches on to things swiftly and can analyze information in an orderly fashion. I'm not sure what they saw in me at Ben Harrison, unless it was the fact that I understand how systems work. Numbers weren't a problem either." She stopped for a moment. "I hope it works out. I'm not sure what else I'd be interested in right now."
"Weren't you interested in finance?"
"Yes, until they offered me intelligence."
Marrell nodded with understanding. She was certain that most people would feel the same way. A glance at her younger daughter gave her pause. Staring at the flames in the fireplace, Delancey seemed deep in thought. Could she be taking Mackenzie seriously? Marrell forced her mind not to dwell on that possibility. If Delancey was thinking of enlisting, it would happen and that was all. Worrying and telling God what to do would accomplish nothing, and on top of that, it would be a sin. However, Marrell did ask God to help her cope, all the while reminding herself to be thankful that He was in control.
Arlington Hall Station, Virginia March 1987
Mackenzie had not expected a job in the files. She knew from her father that the military required mounds of paperwork and that her rank was very low, but when Mackenzie heard the wordintelligence,her mind had run off like a gleeful child's. It wasn't that she was bored-there were always a dozen things to do, and some of the case files were fascinating. But the inactivity and the hours every day that she spent at a desk or in front of a file cabinet were driving her nuts. She had even gone so far as to join a health club. She was headed there right after work, when three of her female coworkers, who also happened to be her roommates, stopped by the file room on their way out. While all the same rank as Mackenzie, the others had various duties, none of which included the files.
"You're not going to sit at home this evening, are you, Micki?" Janelle Price asked. Janelle was older, and Mackenzie knew she liked to be in charge.
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"I haven't had a better offer," Mackenzie said lightly. She had yet to open up to any of these women.
"Well, your luck has just changed. We're going out in search of male companionship, and we want you to join us."
Mackenzie had to laugh.
"Come, Micki," Aimee Langford said softly. She was as young and wet behind the ears as Mackenzie. Beth Hughes was just the same, but she was quiet. Aimee and Mackenzie had their own rooms, and Beth shared a room with Janelle.
Janelle didn't bother with an answer. "How long before you can be ready?"
Mackenzie took a moment to reply. She might have to bow and scrape to those who outranked her, but that did not include her contemporaries. "Maybe 20 minutes," she said at last.
"Make it 15," Janelle ordered.
Mackenzie watched them wander off and shut down her computer for the weekend. She wouldn't be ready in 15 minutes, but they would wait. And if they didn't, that was all right too. Yes, it was a Friday night, and yes, she'd been on her own every night all week, but right now that was okay.
Why did I think this was going to be the answer to every problem?Mackenzie asked herself, not for the first time.Why didIthink that being out on my own was just what I needed?
No answer floated out of the air, and Mackenzie felt herself rushing. Suddenly she didn't want to be left alone tonight. She didn't know these women very well and wasn't sure she wanted to, but the thought of being alone right now scared her to death.
The East Coast was vastly different from the West. Mackenzie had been noticing this for weeks, but it was never more evident than this night. In the 20 minutes the women had spent at the apartment, the other three had transformed themselves into elegant creatures. Two wore black pantsuits, and another had on a deep green jacket and matching slacks. They were dripping with jewelry.
Mackenzie had freshened her makeup a little and put on navy slacks and a light blue oxford-style blouse, but she added no extra jewelry, and in fact, she'd used only the bare necessities on makeup. Her earrings were nice, a Christmas gift from Jack and
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her mother, but she hadn't even bothered with a necklace. Her watch was more functional than elegant.
They had gone to Serge's. It was a little on the pricey side, but the food was wonderful, and the bar area always had good music. At least that was what Mackenzie had been told. She had never been there.
Thinking back on it, the food had been good, but Mackenzie had never been into the bar sc
ene and felt terribly out of place. Janelle and Beth had been asked to dance, and Aimee had gone to the ladies' room. Mackenzie sat alone, a ginger ale in front of her, and felt more 8 then 18. So deep in thought was she that it took a moment for her to realize someone was standing next to the half-circle bench that enclosed the booth.
"Do you have the time?"
A man, probably in his thirties, was standing at her table. He looked tall from where she was sitting, and his hair was very blond.
"Sure." Mackenzie was on the verge of raising her arm when she spotted his wrist. She stared at him for a moment. "You're wearing a watch," she said softly.
He grinned charmingly, revealing a surprising pair of dimples that made him look younger. "You're right, I am, but I was hoping to talk with you."
Mackenzie laughed and automatically shook the hand that was held out to her.
"Paxton Hancock," the man stated.
"Mackenzie Bishop," she filled in.
"Any chance I might join you?"
Mackenzie gestured across the table. "Suit yourself. Some of my friends will probably be back soon," she explained.
"Will they mind?" Paxton asked from the seat across from Mackenzie.
"I don't think so." Mackenzie took a sip of her drink, appearing more relaxed than she felt. She wasn't worried about her personal safety, the Army had seen to that, but she wasn't sure she wanted to talk to a strange man in a bar.
"You look intent," Paxton cut into her thoughts. "Are you figuring out how to give me the brush-off?"
Mackenzie studied him. He was too good-looking to have experienced the "brush-off very often. And the sparkle in his blue eyes told her he knew it.
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"What if I was?" she chanced a flirtation.
"I'd have to do something fast. I can't let you get away."
"Why? There must be dozens of women here with whom you could talk."
"I'm sure you're right, but they don't all look like you."
Mackenzie's look was nothing short of skeptical. She decided to ignore his flattery.
"Where are you from, Paxton?"
"Pax, by the way," he said easily. "My friends call me Pax, and I'm originally from New York, but I've lived here for almost ten years. How about yourself?"
"San Francisco, and I've only been here a few months."
"What's your line of work?"
"I'm at Arlington Hall Station."
"The Army?" He looked stunned.
"Yes," Mackenzie returned, very amused.
"I'm being laughed at," Paxton guessed correctly. But he didn't seem too offended.
Mackenzie could have said many things to that but didn't. Aimee chose that moment to come back.
"Oh, Micki, I-"
Ignoring her coworker's embarrassment, Mackenzie moved over in the booth and introduced her as she was sitting down.
"Aimee, this is Paxton Hancock. Paxton, this is Aimee Langford, also one of Uncle Sam's finest."
Paxton stared at them in amazement.
"You're in the Army too?"
Aimee nodded shyly.
"Well, Uncle Sam sure knows how to pick 'em."
Aimee smiled in pleasure, but Mackenzie, thinking it was a line, looked bored, unknowingly making her all the more fascinating to the man at their table.
"Oh," Aimee said suddenly. Mackenzie followed her gaze.
"It looks as if Beth is trying to get your attention," Mackenzie noted.
"Should I go?" Aimee asked, looking uncertain.
"Sure." Mackenzie smiled at her. "Maybe she wants to introduce you to someone."
Aimee looked more than a little apprehensive but still rose and left the table.
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Paxton was more than happy with this turn of events, but something told him he was going to have to move slowly.
"Can I you buy a drink?" he offered.
"Sure," she said, trying to sound casual. She watched him stand.
"What'll it be?"
"Ginger ale."
Paxton blinked and waited for her to laugh. She didn't.
"Ginger ale?"
"Yes, I'm not much of a drinker, and beyond that, I'm only 18."
For a full five seconds Paxton only stared at her. "Ginger ale it is," he said softly and moved off toward the bar.
Mackenzie had no idea what to think, but she felt better. She had the impression that he had been under thewrongimpression since he sat down. It was good to have the air cleared. If he did have ideas, he now had the facts. Not that Mackenzie would be interested. Even if he was younger, the last thing she wanted in her life at this time was a man.
Paxton was back surprisingly fast. He set Mackenzie's drink in front of her and took his same place at the table. Mackenzie was relieved that he didn't try to sit closer. It would have forced her to cut the evening short.
"So tell me, what do you do for Uncle Sam?"
Mackenzie was sure he was at his most charming. She smiled. "A lot of filing and paperwork. I haven't been at it for very long, so I'm not a lot of use to anyone yet."
"And you would eventually like to do what?"
"I like what I'm doing, but I hope to get a little more hands- on with the material-see the reports before they come for filing, have a chance to think, analyze, and search out possible problems; that kind of thing. What do you do for a living?" she asked abruptly, hoping the conversation would move away from her.
"I'm an editor at IronHorse." Paxton named one of the largest publishers in the world.
Mackenzie immediately thought of Delancey.
"Children's books or adult?"
"Adult." His head dipped to one side. "What made you ask that?"
Mackenzie opened her mouth but shut it again.
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"Not going to tell me?" He watched her closely.
"It just occurred to me that your job must be a little like being a doctor: You go to a party and everyone expects free medical advice."
"Are you really only 18?" he asked, looking stunned.
Mackenzie laughed. "Yes."
Paxton shook his head in wonder. "Go ahead and ask me."
"It's just that my sister draws beautifully, and I was curious as to how an illustrator gets started."
"How old is she?"
"Seventeen."
"Her best bet is to contact some children's magazines. If she met someone who was writing a book and could collaborate on that, that would also help. But if she just wants to get started, she should be sending her work to children's magazines. And if she's already doing that, she should keep trying."
"No, she isn't. In fact, she'll probably be surprised that I even asked you. I don't know if she's ever considered doing anything with her work." Mackenzie shrugged. "I didn't think about it until you said you worked with IronHorse. What exactly do you do?"
"I have certain authors with whom I work. Editing their books is part of the job."
"How many authors?"
"I have about 10 whose books I do every year, and then another 10 to 15 first-timers. The market is always changing, but that's about right."
"Anyone whose name I would know?"
He proceeded to list three authors whose names made Mackenzie's mouth fall open. They were some of the biggest names on the New York Times Bestseller List.
"There are people who would go to great lengths to meet some of my authors, which, if they make the connection to me, only makes my job miserable. So if you could keep that to yourself, I would be pleased."
"I will, certainly," Mackenzie said, wondering why he had confided in her. Maybe it was all a big line. Maybe he would say anything for a date.
"You know," Paxton said suddenly, "I haven't met a woman who's as hard to read as you are in a long time."
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Mackenzie took a moment to reply. Delancey was always telling her that she didn't wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she had never paid much attention to her.
"Why would you want to read me?" Mackenzie asked. It was
the first question that came to mind and reminded Paxton just how young she was.
"Just to get to know you."
Mackenzie barely held herself from asking why again. She glanced out over the crowd and had the firm impression that her friends were deliberately leaving her alone. She had to get out of there.
"I hate to be rude," Mackenzie said softly, checking her watch, "but I think I'm going to call it a night."
"Any chance I can see you again?"
"There might be if I could figure out why you want to, but since I can't, no."
Paxton laughed. She had a remarkable way of fielding everything he said.
"Are you heading home, Paxton?" she now asked congenially, her purse in hand.
"I'm planning on it, yes, but I'm open to a better offer."
Mackenzie only smiled and stood. "Well, I hope you get one. Goodnight, and thank you for the drink."
Paxton watched her walk away with his mouth slightly agape. He stared after her until she disappeared into the crowd. He wasn't a stalker; neither was he a man who pursued a woman who wasn't interested in him. But even though 19 years separated them, he thought that if they could get to know each other, Mackenzie might like him. His ex-wife would disagree, but then she disagreed about everything. Paxton sat back and signaled the waiter for another drink. "Ginger ale," he heard himself say, even as he tried to figure out a way to stop thinking about Mackenzie Bishop.
Mackenzie's ponytail bounced against her neck as she went from a jog to a walk on the indoor track. She'd just put in 11 miles and needed to cool down a bit. She was not particularly winded and realized she had the Army to thank. Actually, she had the Army to thank for several things-the least of which was
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being in good shape; the most of which was that it was causing her to grow up a little.
She hadn't planned to come to the gym tonight, but a letter waiting for her when she arrived home had forced her to get out of the apartment and find some think-time. Delancey was joining the Army. Mackenzie had only just teased her about that very thing, but until she'd had a chance to ponder her sister's decision, she hadn't known how to react.
I'm selfish,Mackenzie concluded.Iwant to go off and live my own life, but I want to know that my family is safely home in San Francisco, waiting for me whenever I decide to visit. Sorry, Deej. I've been unfair.