“Congratulations.”
“For what?” Jamie asked as he came back into the dining room.
Alexei watched as Charlotte weighed her words carefully, the concern in her eyes that of a mother not wanting to hurt her son.
“Their engagement.”
Jamie froze for a second or two before sinking heavily onto his chair. “I know. I’m happy for them.”
“We would have been happy for you,” Charlotte said quietly.
Jamie closed his eyes, a multitude of emotions racing across his face. It made Alexei wish Katie had stayed. She’d known the Callahans the longest and was best equipped to disarm any potential family argument in a fraught moment like this.
“I didn’t tell you about Kyle because I couldn’t,” Jamie got out in a mostly steady voice that was a lie. “Not because I didn’t want to.”
Charlotte reached across the table and curled her hand over his. “So tell me now, if you can. If you want. I’m here for you, Jamie. I’m your mother and I love you. I willalwaysbe here for you.”
Jamie didn’t say anything, just sat there and tried to hold himself together. Alexei knew that feeling all too well. But looking at all those pictures of Kyle upstairs had reminded him of all the ones he had back home, and the ones their parents had saved in Boston. Years and years of memories, of growing up together, of having his brother in his life, made Alexei realize a hard, visceral truth in that moment.
Funerals were for the living as much as they were for the dead. But the way to keep a person alive was to remember them.
“Meet when we kids,” Alexei said, breaking the tension in the room, giving his captain time and room to breathe.
Charlotte turned her head to look at him as Jamie opened his eyes. Alexei met Jamie’s gaze across the table, tasting vodka on his tongue through the bone-deep hurt.
It didn’t taste like tears this time.
“Can tell you, if want?”
Charlotte didn’t let go of Jamie’s hand, but she smiled encouragingly at Alexei anyway, the same way his mother would have if she’d been the one sitting across from him.
“I’d like that,” Charlotte said.
Alexei opened his mouth to talk, holding onto Sean for all he was worth.
20
A Folded Flag After the War
Arlington in springtime was green.
Jamie thought he would always remember how it looked that morning, rows of white graves rising with the hills. The majority of people cremated their dead these days, but the military was a stickler for tradition.
In the distance, the extension of the sea walls along the Potomac River rose high above the shorter, tree-lined walls that enclosed Arlington National Cemetery. When the sea walls had been built farther inland, Washington, D.C., had been forced to reassess areas of the megacity nearest the river. Highways were diverted, eminent domain was used to take control of residential areas, and businesses and colleges were forced to relocate. The military, however, would not disrupt the dead.
Engineers in the past had worked hard to ensure Arlington could remain where it was. The sea wall project at the time had even given Arlington more room to expand, and new land had been cultivated, sectioned off, and reserved for the future dead.
Jamie’s black dress shoes barely made a sound on the winding black roads that curved between the graves. Amidst the green and white were clusters of mournful black, family members of the deceased come to lay their loved ones to rest.
It had been a week since the attack on the heart of the nation’s capital. Seven excruciating days that Jamie had lived in a fog of grief that seemed as if it would never lift. Even now, Jamie didn’t feel as if he were truly present in his body, the world muffled all around him. There was a hole where his heart lay and nothing left in the world could fill it.
A gloved hand slipped into his, mindful of the Mameluke sword he wore on his left hip, denoting his rank as an officer in the Marine Corps. Jamie looked over at his sister, watching as Leah’s mouth tipped up into a small, sad smile. While Jamie was in the full Marine dress blues uniform, the civilian members of his group wore stark black suits or dresses. In Leah’s case, a demure fascinator held a small black veil that covered her eyes.
“Here for you, big brother,” Leah said softly for his ears alone.
Jamie squeezed her hand gently, carefully, well aware he’d been forgetting his own strength over the past week. He faced forward again, eyes roving over the small crowd heading for the gravesite.
Jamie didn’t know the full casualty count—either military, civilian, or first responders—but he knew the president had made a point to praise those who had lost their lives serving their country. The president had embraced his role as comforter-in-chief mere hours after the attack, proving to the world he was still alive and in command. While Michael’s somber speech had gone over well with the media, it was the revelation of Alpha Team’s identities, and Jamie’s in particular, which had been driving the news stories not focused on the attack.
