After the Fall — First Issue

After the Fall

Lucas Callon steeled himself to utter the lie. “Everything will be all right. It’s just a negotiating tactic. There is no real threat.”
 
His daughter sent him a penetrating look. “Then you won’t mind me staying in the city?”
 
Of course it was the last thing he wanted, though he dared give a hint of his determination to have her out, away and safe from what threatened to descend on them all. He would convince her. He must. “It’s not a question of minding, Abigail,” he responded, careful to keep his inner turmoil from his voice. “There are matters in Alden that require your attention.”
 
“And what would those be?” she questioned sharply, her startling violet eyes, so like her mother’s, searching his face. “Mr. Wyatt runs things just fine on his own, and James sees to the house. They don’t need me up there and you know it.”
 
“The staff cannot be expected to handle this.”  he explained, reaching to retrieve a folder from the carved side table at the end of the sofa where they sat. “I’m afraid there’s been some trouble with your sister.”
 
“What do you mean? What kind of trouble?”
 
In answer, he handed her a nondescript looking folder, something you'd find in any office, and she flipped it open, not entirely sure what she would find. The late afternoon sun poured through the leaded glass of the sitting room windows, glinting off the spun gold highlights of her hair, and her father watched silently as her rapt gaze moved over the police report. Her eyes narrowed as she skimmed the photos of a dazed Rachel being bundled into another car. Then the picture of the mangled and blood stained wreckage of a second vehicle, barely recognizable.
 
“Your sister has put three people in the hospital — one of them a two year old boy,” her father told her, the turmoil of his conscience plain in his voice. His expression remained inscrutable, and she thought suddenly how old he seemed, much older than his fifty-seven years.
 
Abigail cast the folder aside, taking his weathered hands in her own as she searched for the right words… something, anything to ease the lines of worry she saw on his still-handsome face. “We can be grateful that no one was killed.”
 
“That is true, for the moment at least.” he agreed with a shake of his head, “The mother is on life support, with severe head injuries. They say she won’t survive the night.”
Mother, the word echoed through Abigail’s mind, cutting her deeply. “Those pour souls,” she whispered, fighting to control the raw emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Her voice hardened as she continued, “And Rachel? What is her condition?”
 
“Cuts and bruises. Nothing more.”
 
She bit back the hot words that bubbled to her lips. “They were not to let her drive, under any circumstances… ”
 
“They didn’t even know she was gone. By the time they realized… it was too late.” Lucas paused, running a hand absently through his graying hair, “They got her off-scene as quickly as possible… I’ve had her sent to Callon Manor.”
 
Abby digested the news in silence, swallowing the urge to criticize, to point out that this had been her fear when her father had agreed to outpatient care for her wayward younger sister. It cut her to know that even now, after all she had done, he would still do anything to protect his impulsive, thoughtless child. Aloud she said only, “So that’s the matter I’m to attend to in Alden?”
 
He nodded, and his next words held all the power of conviction, “I’ve got my hands full with the negotiations — it’s a tricky business with a lot at stake.” He paused, careful to keep just the right amount of concern in his voice without giving away too much. Knowing the truth would change nothing, for either of them.

He leaned forward, taking her hands in his, “Careers are made, and broken, over scandals a lot smaller than the one your sister’s made for us. I cannot afford to have that take the focus off my work. I need you to handle the matter for me… to see that things are done properly… discretely.”
 
“I’m not covering this up Father. Not this time.”
 
Her violet eyes flashed defiance, her declaration easing a father’s bruised conscience. Abigail had always been the strong one, the one who rose to the occasion, judged fairly, and clung to her principles with a tenacity that he’d often found maddening. Today it gave him comfort — a part of him knowing that she would be all right, no matter what. He patted her hand.

“Even if you would, it’s too late for that.” He said. “My position has bought us time only — 24 hours before the story breaks — time enough for you to get to Alden, get her cleaned up. She’ll be indicted of course, so you’ll need to see that she gets a good lawyer. Hire PR people to control the media… and of course the family…”
 
“I know what to do, Father. You know I do.”
 
Unbidden, an image of the lively little girl she had been flooded her father’s thoughts. He could almost hear her laughter, see the stubborn set of her chin, feel the impulsive hugs that told him he was special in the heart and soul of a child. Strong emotion roughened his tone as he continued, “Remember, you mother would want us to do what’s best for all concerned — including your sister.”
 
The mention of her mother brought Abigail up short, for the loss was still too raw, too fresh for her heart not to twist painfully at the mention of her name. She blinked back the sudden tears, determined not to cry, not now, “You may count on that Father.” and then after a moment, “And in return, you must do something for me.”
 
He sent her a wary glance, “And that is?”
 
She took a deep breath, “Tell me the truth. Is it really as bad as they say?”
 
“Neither side wants war, Abigail. That is an absolute.”
 
“General Khim still refuses to disarm?”
 
“He is convinced it would jeopardize his security,” he told her. “Of course, the President is insisting on immediate disarmament — and threatening to act if he doesn’t get his way.”
 
Violet eyes widened, “We could really go to war over this?”
 
Lucas was ready with his reassurance. “I told you, no one wants war.” He squeezed her hand. “The consequences are the end of everything, for both sides, everyone knows that. Including General Khim.”

“They say he’s a madman — ”
 
Her father dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “They say lots of things. Very little of it true.”
 
“What will you do?”
 
“Get Khim to listen to reason,” he replied.
 
Abby watched him closely, trying to pierce the guarded expression that seemed to have taken hold of his face. His words, and the confidence with which he said them, were comforting, yet she could not put aside the feeling that he was holding something from her — something he knew would frighten her — something that perhaps he could not admit, even to himself. “Father, I — ”
 
“You’re tying yourself in knots for no reason, Abigail,” he cut in, careful to meet her intent violet gaze. A lifetime in the diplomatic service had taught Lucas Callon many things. How to deliver messages that neither side wanted to hear, face down anger and offer compromises that allowed both parties their dignity. He’d learned to spot a bluff, accept an ultimatum or deliver bad news with equal skill. And, most importantly to him now, he’d learned the art of subterfuge, to lie without guile. “General Khim may be many things, but he’s not a fool. The destruction of his country isn’t what he’s after.”
 
“What is he after?”
 
Her father shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll have some clue from this new proposal he’s making — the one I’m to receive later this evening.”
 
Somewhere deep inside her, a tiny voice whispered a dire, dreadful warning. “You’re flying out again? So soon?”
 
“Time is critical, Abigail,” he told her, reaching to take the folder she’d cast aside and slip it into the briefcase that rested against the couch. “for both of us. I’ve told my office to provide you every resource. James has a list of names and numbers at the house. Also, I’ve had Mr. Wyatt enhance security around the property — at least give us a head start on the cannibals who’ll be scrambling for that first photo.”
 
She nodded, a mischievous light dancing in her eyes. “You leave those swine to me,” she told him, all at once intrigued by the prospect of the cat-and-mouse game that was about to begin. “I’ll take care of everything. You’ll see.”
 
“You’ll do fine… just so long as you curb that acid tongue of yours,” he advised with a smile. “You’re a diplomat’s daughter, people expect more restraint.”
 
“I’ll be good. I promise,” she assured him.
 
“Conduct yourself as a Callon,” he told her, rising and bringing her to her feet as well. When had she gotten so tall, he wondered as he reached to pull her into the protective circle of his arms. “And never forget that I love you dearly.”
 
Abigail was at once enveloped by a sense of safety and security — a feeling she’d always known only in her father’s arms. Everything would be all right, she decided, determined to make him proud, to do the right thing — moved by his faith in her ability to handle a difficult task. “You can count on me. You know you can.”
 
Deep down, Lucas Callon knew this, had always known that she would be the one he could count on. He was profoundly grateful that she could not see the powerful emotions that shone in his eyes as he held her. He kept his voice even, neutral as he continued.
 
“Then you’d best leave for Alden at once — today.”

To Be Continued…