A Clash of Duties

Chapter 1

The calendar reads July 2, 1968, when Martha Rodgers throws her legs over the side of a bed that's grown cold. Jackson left an hour before, citing the need to file a report of a job he just finished at the United Nations. Other than the fact that he works for the foreign service, Jackson hasn't been very forthcoming about his job, telling her that most of what he does, he's not allowed to discuss.

In a way, his silence concerning his career is a relief. She's known so many men who believe that every detail of every deal they've ever made will be fascinating to her. If they're talking about the craft, she's happy to share their triumphs, but acquiring a subsidiary that boosts sales by 20% doesn't excite her.

The cracked tile floor is cold against her bare feet as she pulls open the medicine cabinet to retrieve the yellow plastic compact that holds the circle of pills corresponding to days of the week. Sunday - that's wrong. She was so enthralled with Jackson that she must have missed two. Well, she can take an extra one now and hope for the best.

Martha had never been regular as a teen or young woman, but since she's been on the pill, her usually unwelcome guest has appeared like clockwork - until now. God, she couldn't be! She just got a callback for a play, the first one she's had in months. The commercials she's been doing pay the rent, but she's longed to be back on the stage. She can't afford to panic. She can get a test at Planned Parenthood where she saw a doctor for free and got her pills. If she is pregnant, she'll have to make the best of it - and try to get in touch with Jack. He said he'd be overseas for a few weeks and couldn't tell her where, but he should be back any day.

Hunt examines the angry red blaze across his ribs where a bullet left its mark. It could have been worse - a lot worse - if a sudden flash of lightning hadn't thrown off the aim of his opposite number in the KGB. Jackson took him out, but it was blind luck that things didn't go the other way.

Unless he can come up with a credible explanation, he can't allow Martha to see the sign of his latest skirmish, but she sounded upset when she said she needed to talk to him. He set their early meet-up at one of the cheaper eateries near her tiny Manhattan apartment. There will be enough of a hungry breakfast crowd there to prevent Martha from expecting anything except conversation or at the most, a kiss.

Even at 8 a.m., the man behind the counter is admonishing the customers with a "No Coke, Pepsi." Jackson is fine with coffee to go with his fried egg and cheese sandwich. Martha ordered an English muffin and a cup of tea, but she's barely touched either of them.

"Martha, what's happening?"

Martha shakes her head. "It's what's going to happen, Jack. Come next spring, more than flowers will be popping out. We're going to be parents."

"Are you sure?" Jackson asks.

"The doctor said there's no doubt." She pulls a bottle full of huge capsules out of her purse. "He even gave me vitamins - if I can ever keep them down. Look, you never made me promises, and I'm not asking for any. But in case you do want to be a part of our child's life, I thought you should know."

"Part of our child's life? Martha, you've seen a little of what my work is like. I never know where I'm going to be or exactly how long I'll be there. I'm not what you would call father material. But I will do my best to be around when you - the two of you - need me. And I want to marry you."

"Jack, are you serious?"

Hunt's fingers tighten around the edge of the table. It's too late now to worry about something like what the woman across from him might see beneath his shirt. He'll explain what little he can. "I am, but no one and I mean no one can know about it. There are people, dangerous people, who don't like the work I do. If they find out there's anyone I care about… I can't let anything happen to you or the baby. But I have to make sure you're taken care of. I make decent money, you might call it hazard pay, and I don't get the chance to spend much of it. I've never needed it before, but I can get government insurance too. So if I'm gone, you'll be all right."

"Jackson, you're scaring me."

"Then you're understanding what I'm telling you, Martha."

"But if no one can know about it, how can we get married? There are public records, and people recognize my face as the Boo-Boo Shampoo lady. Even if we just go to a justice of the peace, someone might see us."

"We'll go to Saint Thomas," Jackson decides. "It's U.S. territory. The marriage will be legal." His mouth tilts lopsidedly. "And I don't think they use too much Boo-Boo shampoo there. As far as I know, I have a few days before I'll receive a new assignment. At least we can have a honeymoon."

1979

Martha hates to leave Richard while she goes on tour, but she has no choice. To ply her craft, she has to keep her face before the public. Jackson sends money when he can, but she never knows when it is going to come - or if it is going to come. Every so often he calls out of the blue to arrange a rendezvous in some out of the way place. A few days at a time with him is still better than nothing, but she wishes they could have more. He's promised that when he's earned enough leave, they can take Richard and go somewhere incognito. He just couldn't tell her when or how they would do it.

Richard could use more outings. She's done what she could, taking him to the theater with her, but he prefers the public library. He gets lost in the stories and has begun to write his own. They're childish, of course, but sparkle with imagination. More experience out in the world could shovel even more fuel on the boy's creative fire. Spending some extended time with a man wouldn't hurt either. It doesn't bother Martha that Richard has no interest in sports. The one and only time he played with a ball in the apartment, it cost her a vase, but Jackson hasn't been able to serve as a male role model. She can't even acknowledge that he is Richard's father.

She's worked things out, so she always has a man on her arm when she needs one. She serves as a beard for several of her fellow actors who must hide their sexual preferences from the public to keep working. They offer help in return. A couple of them even tried to get Richard interested in hobbies other than filling his notebooks. The only thing that stuck was magic. Thank heaven for Jeffrey Moocher, otherwise known as Majesto, and his disciple Peter Beckett. Their Saturday pilgrimages with Richard to Drake's Magic Shop give him a new universe to explore. Perhaps someday, when Jackson shows up again, Richard can find yet another one, outside of New York."

Martha checks the delicate Swiss watch which a courier delivered with just the message, "Love J." Maggie should be arriving at any moment, suitcase in hand. Martha knows the woman will spend a lot of the time on the couch watching soap operas, some in which Martha's guest-starred. The plotlines lately aren't bad. If Richard watches with his nanny, he may garner some inspiration.