Michael - His life

I had been in the Middle East now for two months and had been working to provide intelligence support to the Combined Joint Task Force operations. Several nations were working together to try to bring peace and a measure of stability to Syria and to try to stop ISIS. Easier said than done. Every nation wanted a limited involvement and were not keen to go down the rabbit-hole of another Afghanistan. That little shit-show was still going on and there was no end in sight. Most western nations had decided to 'fold their tents,' declare a measure of victory and go home. The Taliban were slowly re-emerging and taking control. All of the blood and treasure expended there would be for naught. Right now I didn't care. I wanted to keep my head in the game, do my job and then move on to another assignment.

I still had my personal cellphone with me and once a day I would check it, usually just before I would get some sleep, but there were no calls from Amanda. I figured that she would have one of the lawyers at her firm do up the divorce papers and mail them to me. But nothing so far.

I was prepared to be civilized about it and would simply sign them and have them returned so that my lawyer and her lawyer could sort it all out and I would be done with her. Don't get me wrong. I loved that woman. Hell, I even loved our children; sorry, her children. They were innocent in all of this, and I had plans to set up a university education fund for both. It would be a trust fund to pay for school. I talked to my lawyer about it and he could easily make that happen and make it part of the divorce settlement. She could keep the NYC apartment; I would keep the Washington apartment. Since I brought my investment portfolio with me to the marriage, we would only share the proceeds of the profits that might be made while we were married. It meant that I kept about 80% of what I had invested with my brothers' firm.

My boss was visiting from Washington and after he and I talked at length about the mission he looked at me and his comment that I looked like hell, somewhat surprised me. "Mike, you need a break from all this crap. Why don't you take a couple of weeks off and recharge your batteries? Hell, go spend some of that wad of cash you got in the bank and go have a rest and some fun. Then you and I will talk about your next assignment. I have some tricky work that I think you will enjoy." He was a southerner that with his slow drawl and manner of speaking reminded me of the cartoon character Foghorn Leghorn. I expected his to say, 'I say boy.' He was about as straight-forward a man as you can get in this business and if he said I looked like I needed a break from the action, then I really needed a break. Fuck!

Three days later I was sitting in a business class seat on Emirates Airline heading for London. I made a reservation at a good hotel not far from Buckingham Palace. London is one of my favourite cities and I always enjoyed being there.

On my second day, after I had taken a historical tour of the British Parliament Building, I was relaxing in my room with a beer and planning out the next few days. I had booked a car and was gong to head off to Scotland.

There was a knock on my room door. Unusual for this hotel since there was active security at the front door and the desk never gave out room numbers unless the guest authorized it. Who could it be? My spider-senses were on high alert as I quietly moved to the door to look out the tiny viewer. It was black so whomever was there had either covered with a finger of a piece of tape. Fuck!

I didn't have a pistol with me; the British frown on the carrying of weapons about their country unless there is an official reason for it. And I was officially a tourist. There was a bit of space to the left of the door, so I stood there trying to decide what to do. If whoever it was on the other side of the door did have a weapon, then standing in front of the door was a bad idea. If I answered they would merely shoot through the door and it would be game over for me. So, I stood to the side and waited. There wasn't a sound coming from the other side. My heart rate was noticeably elevated and I worked to control my breathing so as not to make any noise.

There was another knock. I looked again to see who or what it was. I hadn't ordered anything from room-service, and they always announce themselves. There was only one other person that I could think of that might know where I was. I decided to take a risk and open the door.

I shifted sides so that I would be on the side of the door opening when I turned the handle. Was I surprised by who I saw standing there? Yes and no.

My visitor said, "Hello, Michael. It's good to see you."

**********

Rebecca

I was made aware that Michael Stuart was in London. It had been almost a year since I had last seen him. He looked a bit drawn and gaunt, although his face was tanned.

He just stood in the door to his hotel room and, with a large measure of surprise, stared at me. His mind was processing things, I could tell. He was working through just how I knew where he was. It didn't surprise me in the least.

"Are you going to invite a lady in, or do I just stand here in the passageway to talk to you?"

He shook his head and blinked. "Please, come in." He stood to the side so that I could enter and then he shut the door and fixed the deadbolt.

His eyes moved up and down my body from my head to my feet and then back up. I could tell that he was looking at my left hand to see if there were new things there since we last saw each other. There weren't.

We both hesitated for a split second and then we were holding each other and kissing. He was like a man possessed. He was hungry. He wanted touch and intimacy, from me. In seconds we started pulling each other's clothing off and tossing it to the floor.

When we both were naked he picked me up and carried me to the bed. The next two hours were a blur. The sheets were a tangled mess and mostly off the bed. We were fucked out to the point of exhaustion; but Michael was just getting going. He pulled me to the shower and after washing off he said, "I'm fucking starved. Let's go eat."

We went to a restaurant recommended by the concierge and a cab dropped us at the door. Michael had the concierge phone ahead and the Maitre'd escorted us to a private table. The place was nice, not too fancy, since we were not dressed up, but very good food and wine.

After the wine was delivered, he started. "I'm not surprised that you knew I was here. I was having a hard time trying to decide if I should call you or text you. Its been months. Lots of things have happened. I didn't know what was going on with you. When I saw you standing in the hall outside my hotel room, I knew in an instant what it was that I wanted to do. Thank you."

"Now my turn. I've been quietly keeping up with what you're doing. I knew that your wife had another child and if I can be blunt, I know about the parentage of the children. It's presumptuous of me, I know, but unless you're completely clueless, you must know how I feel about you."

Michael smiled when I said that. He nodded his head a bit. "I think I have a good idea. I also think I have a much better idea about what it is that I want. The last few months have been a chance for me to think very carefully about that. I've made some decisions."

I looked at him and had to ask, "Are you ready to share some of your decisions?"

"Yes. I have to be completely honest with you when I tell you."

Now I was starting to wonder what it was he was thinking. I'm a good judge of character and all my professional training was so that I could read what people were going to do before they did it themselves. Michael was the same. That's what made both of us good at our careers.

"I'm ready for whatever you tell me." And so, our talk started and lasted all night. Michael was exhausted when he finished and if I'm to be honest, so was I. My pulse was racing at times. But at other times what he told me merely confirmed what I had earlier deduced. This tough soldier and warrior was nothing if not predictable when it came to his own life. His sense of honour and loyalty was one of his guiding principles and would dictate his actions.

***********

Michael

It's been almost six months now since I confronted Amanda about the DNA of her children. I'd packed and left NYC and went back to doing fieldwork for the agency. While I was on a break in London, I was pleasantly surprised to get a visit from Rebecca. It was a visit that would shape the rest of my life.

I also got a call from my brother. He had some news for me about a bunch of things. I'd asked Charles to look after a few things for me in his spare time, not that he has much, but what good are brothers if they can't do you a favour once in a while.

I asked him to keep an eye on Amanda and what she was doing. I hadn't heard from her in months so figured that she was getting ready to file for divorce. With that in mind I had asked Charles to look at ways to protect my investments so that any effort by Amanda to claim alimony, child support and other resources, could be countered, in a reasonable way.

The other thing was I was going to sell the Washington condo so I had given Charles a Power-of-Attorney to sell the place and put the money in my investment account.

Charles was working with my lawyer and he was anxious to talk. He started, "Hey Mike, well I have good new and other news. Which do you want first?"

"Give me the not-so-good news first I suppose."

"Okay. Amanda is not doing anything to start divorce proceedings, at least not that me or your lawyer can tell. I tried to contact her but haven't heard a peep out of her. I even went to your, sorry, her apartment, and only got to talk to the nanny. By the way, she is a hot little thing; just in case you wanted my opinion on that issue. Anyway, the nanny told me that Amanda was at her office. The kids were nowhere to be seen but I could hear them playing in another room, so I figure there were fine. I haven't gone to her office yet but will if you want me to."

"Thanks, but that isn't necessary, at least not yet. What else have you got?"

"Okay, I sold your Washington condo. I got a tidy profit on it. It sold for almost double what you paid for it and after the fees are paid, I put almost $2 Million into your investment account. Now the really good news. Your account now stands at just over $22 Million." He paused for effect. There was silence from me. Finally I kicked in as my brain caught up with what he was saying.

"Holy Shit! How the fuck did that happen? Did you break some insider trading laws or something like that?" My brother was laughing hysterically on the end of the phone.

"No, little brother. It's all perfectly legal and all yours. I'm very good at picking winners in the investment business and I did just that. And I put it all in a perfectly legal account that is managed by me and that is taxed at preferential rates by the government of Ireland. They're keen to have people invest in their nation and so I did, well you did. And now you get to reap the benefits."

"My god, I'm having a hard time believing you. I don't doubt you, but; I'm sure you understand my skepticism. How do I access the money?"

"Not to worry. I'm having a package sent to you as soon as you tell me where the hell you are, and you will see just how to go about accessing your money. By the way, where the hell are you?"

"London. I've been here a couple of weeks. Not sure for how long though. Listen, I love you dearly and owe you big time, so be patient with me if I have questions for you later."

"No worries. I gotta go. The kids are hollering for us to go out and my darling wife is giving me the stink-eye."

After I punched-off my phone I sat and contemplated being rich. Well, well-off, I suppose. That kind of money opened new avenues for me to explore. The agency might just have to take a back seat in my future. Right now, I still have a wife that wasn't really interested in being a wife. Her children were another consideration.

I started writing down things that needed to be done in the coming days:

1) Figure out what to do about Amanda,

2) Figure out what to do about my job with the agency,

3) Where do I want to live?

4) What do I want to do? and

5) What about Rebecca????

I had lots of questions and no real answers. Sadly I was an expert at making plans for the agency but in my personal life, not as gifted. My mind went to a thousand different thoughts that night and in the morning I didn't have any answers.

*************

Rebeca

The man that I want in my life is back in London. Now the job is to keep him in my life. I reckon I have a pretty good idea how to do that. The next few weeks will be the thing. Time will tell. I've a good idea what Michael wants, and I'm fully prepared to give it to him. He wanted a wife that was going to be faithful to him. He wanted a family that was his. He wanted to live without deception and hiding the truth from each other. To me, that was easy.

*************

Amanda

It's been several months since Michael walked out the door. His last words were to call him when I was prepared to tell him the truth. Jesus, that's a hard pill to swallow. The truth is that I do love him. The truth is that both the children are not his. The truth is that I've been unfaithful to the man that I thought I loved. I did it because I thought that I could do it with impunity and he would never know. Even if he did find out, he would accept me for who and what I am, love me regardless what I do and accept both the children as his. I misjudged him. Stupid.

Now how do I go about fixing this? Can I fix it? Every time I pick up my phone to call him, I stop dialling and put it down. My embarrassment and shame overwhelm me to the point that I wouldn't know what to say if he did answer. You would think that as a lawyer I would be more gifted at lying. That I could concoct a story to persuade him to forgive me and come home. Home to me and the children.

You would think that I might be repentant, but I'm not. I'm still seeing someone. I need a man in my bed a couple of time a week. Now more than ever. God almighty, I'm fucked up. I know it. But I want Michael back, so much. Losing him was a big mistake. How could I be so fucking stupid?

I have to go to him on bended knee and beg him for a second chance. Or can I? Do I have it in me to be humble? I'm not sure. That's the internal argument that's been going on in my head since he left. It's what stops me from calling him. It's what stops me from calling his brother to see where he is and going there. Fuck!

I have two children to think about, but in all honesty, I haven't let their need for a father push me to act. That's selfish I know, but they're still little and don't know the difference. The nanny has been hinting that she's leaving in a few months. She's finishing school and her boyfriend and her are moving to Maine. He has a job offer there and they plan on starting a family. Even the nanny has her shit together better than I do. I'm such a loser.

I need to get my shit sorted out and do something. I expect to see divorce papers arrive any day and then it will be too late. I need to stop sitting on my hands and go find my husband.

***********

Michael

My boss called me the other day. One of my three cell phones was chirping, and I had to remember for a second which was which. He was anxious to find out where I was. When I told him that I was still in London, he exhaled noticeably and said, "Good, stay there. You're gonna go back to work with the Brits. They got their panties in a bunch claiming that we're not sharing information with them in a timely fashion. Go figure. So, your new task is to get cozy with their people and stay there until I tell you different. Got it?"

"No worries, I got it." This might work out just to my advantage.

He added, "If you got any questions, whatsoever, call me, day or night. I just love getting calls at 2 AM; oh yeah. Now get to work and send me a daily report by the usual means."

I hung up (why do we say that when we're using cell phones and all you do is touch a heat sensitive button?). This was an opportunity for me. I was agonizing about going back home and what to do about Amanda. In all the time that had passed since I left, she had never once communicated with me. Not one single call, e-mail, or text message. I had told her to call when she was ready to tell me the truth. I surmised that she was not ready to do that. Just when she would be ready was still an unknown.

I knew in a deep part of my soul that Amanda and I were done. My love for her wasn't enough to meet her needs. I'd known it for a while but had hoped that she might change. DNA test results are certainly things that help to clarify the facts and with the knowledge that both of her children were not mine; well, that certainly was the straw that broke my back. If she was so fearful of the truth, then it might be best to just end it and move on.

I decided to call my lawyer the next morning and get on with it.

***********

Amanda

Every morning I wake up and think about Michael. I think about calling him. I reach for my phone and then I put it down. I'm so ashamed for what I've done. I got pregnant twice by other men and had their babies. I tried to pretend that Michael was their father. He was a good father, too. He is the bravest man that I know. He tolerates no bullshit, and it was bullshit from me that I was giving him. How could I face him? How could I plead with hm to come home and continue to try and be a father to two children that weren't his? How could he look at me again and not think that I would be unfaithful? Would he respect and trust me? I hadn't earned either his respect or trust. I am so fucked up. I gotta go to work.

As soon as I got off the elevator at the office, I was greeted by a woman dressed nicely in a pantsuit. She had a no-nonsense look to her face. I thought I recognized her as a process-server that we had used in the past. I almost had her name on the tip of my tongue when she said, "Are you Amanda Windsor?"

I nodded my head. She said, "Sorry Ma'am but I need you to actually tell me."

"Yes, I'm Amanda Windsor."

She handed me the large envelope, that would normally contain legal documents. I automatically reached out and took it. She continued, "You are now officially served. Thank you." And with that she turned and left. I watched as she walked to the elevator and took out her cellphone and sent a short text.

Now, I get served legal documents all the time when dealing with various cases, but this time it had a much more personal feel about it. I sat in a chair in the waiting area of the offices, put down my purse and briefcase and ripped open the end of the envelope. It was a Petition for the Dissolution of Marriage. Oh shit!

Michael had gotten tired of waiting for me to call him. He'd had enough. I sat there for a few moments starring blankly at the carpet. One of the receptionists saw me and asked if there was anything I needed.

I exhaled deeply and thanked her and then grabbed my things and made my way to my office. When I got there, I dropped my things on the sofa and saw that there was a large vase filled with red roses. There was a card in a sealed envelope. I smelled the beautiful flowers and sat down to open the card with them.

I read the words:

Dear Amanda,

I've been waiting for several months now for you to call; but you haven't. I will understand if you don't want to do that.

I believe that it's time for the two of us to get on with our lives. I don't know what you have been doing, besides being a mother of two small children and working full-time but I suppose it is none of my concern. Whatever you are doing I hope that it makes you happy.