Chapter One
He’s Leaving!
Tuesday August 20
6:30 P.M.
Houston, TX
Maggie Palmer drug the brush repeatedly through her dark red brown curls and tried to ignore the sandy-haired man in the mirror. Finally, she could take it no more. Her eyes shifted quickly to the reflection that leaned against the door frame behind her. Graham stood with his arms folded across his plaid shirt, his long legs, clad in starched and creased blue jeans, crossed at his ankles. His usually clear blue eyes were dark and smoky like a forewarning to an approaching storm.
She quickly focused again on her own image, now blurred by the tears that stung her eyes.
He’s leaving . . . again.
“It’s what I do. You know that.” The voice behind her was soft yet guarded.
Maggie whirled around, and her hair bounced around her face as she dropped the brush and covered her ears with her hands. “Not now. I don’t want to hear it.”
“What do you want to hear?” he asked softly. “That I’ll quit my job and stay home?” His lips were drawn taut and pointed to his softly angled jaw line.
She glanced up into the stormy eyes, but fear filled her. Her stomach felt like it was filled with rocks, and she shifted her gaze back toward the mirror. She was afraid of the loneliness that would come when he left again. Loneliness brought too many ghosts with it. Still, she knew her husband would go on this trip anyway.
“Where?” she asked the one simple question though she hated to hear the answer. His job sometimes took him to exotic places, but more often he traveled to desolate regions of the globe, always for that perfect story to tell with pictures.
She watched as Graham’s eyes roved the room. She knew he stalled to answer. A sense of foreboding caused her to tense the muscles in her lower jaw and she clenched her teeth to steel herself for what he would say.
“Iraq.”
“Iraq? Now I know you’ve lost your mind. In case you haven’t heard, people are stilled being killed there. Just last week on the news . . . ”
“Yeah, Mags, that’s right. And in case you haven’t heard, some of them are children. Some of them are poor innocent people who want to have a life. And what kind of life have they had up to now? Not much.”
“You don’t have to make me sound like an ogre.”
Graham moved behind Maggie and massaged her shoulders. “You’re right. My remark was out-of-line. I’m sorry. But there is no reason for you to get so mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Oh yes you are. Those eyes that captivated me thirty-six years ago still have a violet sheen when you’re mad.”
“And when I’m frightened. Iraq still isn’t safe.”
“I know it’s a dangerous assignment, but this is a story I feel passionate about.”
“Passionate? Don’t you mean obsessed?”
Graham sat on the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. Maggie watched as he steepled his fingers. “No. I mean passionate. It’s something I feel deep inside.”
His hands covered his face, up then back down as if he could wipe away the tension etched and trapped in the grooves of his fifty-five-year-old face. “I’ve watched so much of the news footage on TV. Terrorist. Shiites. Sunnis. I’ve seen and heard the political messages and war until I’m nauseous.”
Graham eyes shifted to the beige level-loop carpet, then looked up at her. “There are people over there just like us. People who want a normal life, whatever that is. I’d like to tell the story of what the everyday Iraqi people have to endure.”
“There will always be that kind of story.”
“There will be worse ones than that, if they aren’t told.”
She knew he was right. Still, her nerves recoiled when she thought of the danger he might encounter. “Why do you have to go?” She tried to soften the edge she heard in her own voice. “Why do you have to be the one to tell this story?”
“Why not me? I told you, it’s what I do. It’s my way of helping the world. I expose injustice. I let people know what the world is really like. Not just their happy little corner of it.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re not. That can never happen.”
“Don’t say that. We both know that’s not true.”
“I’ll be as cautious as I can. Besides, can you really tell me that I’m safer if I stay here rather to go to Iraq or anywhere else in the world? Why, the Houston traffic alone can kill you. If it’s my time to go, then it’s my time.”
A gust of air escaped her lips. “When is the trip?”
He took her hand. “I’ll be gone a couple of weeks.”
“When, Graham?”
“I leave next Monday.”
She jerked her head to face him. “Monday? Graham, you know I’m scheduled to speak next week. You said you would be there. You know how nervous I am about that conference.”
“You can do it. You’re stronger than you think. I know this isn’t a good time. It stinks and I feel awful about that. Really, I do, but if Bill and I want this assignment, we have to go now. The magazines all want updates on Iraq.”
“Oh no, the timing doesn’t stink . . . it reeks. Talk about the injustices of the world. You said— ”
“I know what I said. Let’s be careful we don’t say something we’ll later regret.”
Maggie took a couple of deep breaths. We’ll never agree on this and he’ll go anyway.
She peered into Graham’s eyes. She loved those blue eyes full of compassion and knew she had to let him do this or she would never be able to look into those eyes again.
Maggie felt her face softened as she let their love help control her fear. “I still don’t want you to go, but I understand it’s something you have to do. It’s who you are.” She lifted her hand and gently stroked Graham’s cheek. “And I love who you are.”
Graham reached up and caught her hand on his cheek, and pressed it to his lips. “I love you too, Mags. I’ll be careful.”
She pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. “You know, I’ll need a new outfit to wear when you’re presented an award for this story.”
Graham chuckled. “Of course, the wife of the greatest photojournalist in the world has to look her best. And I’ll need a new suit. You’ll be the world’s next greatest speaker.”
She rolled her eyes and let out a small puff of air. “Yeah, right.”
“Would you like for me to ask one of the girls to go with you next week? One of them can be my stand-in.”
She thought of their daughters, Marlina, thirty-four years old, and Kim, thirty-one. I don’t need them. I need you. “No, I’ll ask them myself.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be downstairs in my study for an hour or so.” Maggie nodded, then watched Graham as he sauntered from the room.
Her mind whirled with all the things that would need her attention the next few days. She would need to pack for Graham, go over her notes for the conference next week, pick out something to wear for when she stood in front of all those people. Wonder what color goes good with puke?
#
Saturday, August 24
7:00 P.M.
Houston, TX
Maggie continued with dinner preparation, when Graham ushered Bill Cooper and his wife, Peggy into the kitchen They hugged and swapped quick stories on how their day had transpired. Always before the two men left for an assignment the four of them met for dinner, mapped out the project and prayed. Tonight, was no different from a hundred other nights, so Maggie wondered why she felt fidgety.
Graham and Bill perched on the two stools at the end of the breakfast counter. Peggy walked to the sink, washed her hands then began to make a salad from the veggies she found on the countertop. The men discussed their goals for the trip to Iraq, while the women tossed in ideas and suggestions. The foursome worked well together whether it was in a kitchen, a third world country, or a board meeting at Metroplex Community Church.
“We’ve been promised an exclusive on this story,” Bill said. “Our contact, Sief Abu Hamal, will also serve as our translator. He promises he will tell and show us things that will open the eyes of the American people.”
“What other angles have you thought about that we can investigate while we are there?” Graham scribbled some words on his notepad.
Bill reached over and snatched a slice of cucumber before Peggy threw it in the salad. “We can concentrate on the personal aspect of renovations of communities and community life, or we could report on technological advances in Iraq since the last war.”
“What about interviewing ex-pats there, see the story of progress from their perspective? I know it’s been done, but maybe show a new angle,” Maggie added. Bill and Graham nodded in agreement.
Graham continued to jot down notes. “Our military presence there is small, so we’ll have to be extremely careful. We can’t say or do something that might jeopardize their presence there.”
As Maggie put the food on the table and the group sat down to eat, she noticed Peggy was quieter than normal. She’s probably as uneasy about this trip as I am. Maggie vowed to get Peggy alone after dinner; perhaps they could comfort one another.
They talked through dinner and into dessert. The men’s excitement reminded Maggie of two small boys collaborating about their first camp-over. As much as she hated to see Graham travel to a volatile area of the world, she couldn’t help but enjoy his child-like qualities as his smile spread from ear to ear, as his words came out faster and faster, as his eagerness for adventure flourished.
When the last bite of coconut meringue pie was gone, she began to clear the dishes from the table. Graham reached for the empty glasses, but she stopped him.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said. “You guys go into the den and sit down.”
Graham sat the glasses down without hesitation. “Come on Bill. Let’s not make her tell us twice. Besides, I want to show you some research I found on the Internet.”
As the two men left the room, Maggie and Peggy took dishes to the kitchen. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Does this trip bother you too?” Maggie asked.
“They all bother me.” Peggy scraped food from the plates into the sink.
“I know what you mean, but I sense something troubles you. Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“OKAY. I didn’t mean to pry, but I’m concerned.” Maggie reached for her friend’s hand, but Peggy took a step back.
Peggy waited a few seconds before she spoke, as if she was wasn’t sure whether to continue. Finally, she said, “I need to figure something out. I don’t know. Maybe, we should all be concerned.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Maggie loaded and started the dishwasher, then went to join her husband and guests. Graham and Bill huddled on the couch and devoured the research information they had each gathered. Peggy sat in a chair and watched the two men. Bill glanced at Peggy and they stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked but all other facial expressions void. Maggie looked to Graham. He gave her a half-crooked smile and raised one eyebrow.
Talk about the trip ended when Peggy announced she had a headache and wished to go home. As was their custom, the group time ended with prayer for each one’s safety for the duration of the trip.
Graham and Maggie walked the Coopers to the door.
“I’ll see you on the plane, partner,” Bill said as he slapped Graham on the back.
“Sure thing.”
Maggie usually gave Peggy a goodbye hug, but after the incident in the kitchen, she wasn’t sure how her friend would respond. Ultimately, it was Peggy who leaned forward, embraced Maggie, and whispered in her ear, “Watch your back.”
#
Monday, August 26
1:30 P.M.
Graham and Maggie arrived at the Houston’s George Bush Intercontinental Airport two hours before his scheduled departure time. He pulled the vehicle into the line of traffic in front of the Mickey Leland Terminal. Graham cleared his throat as if to rid his voice of emotion. “You’ll be in my thoughts constantly, while I’m gone.”
“Don’t get offended, but I’ll try not to do the same thing. I’ll stay so busy while you’re gone that I don’t have time to think about you, because if I think about you, I’ll worry.”
Graham inched the car forward. “Be ye anxious for nothing.”
“Great! You leave for an unstable region and taunt me with scripture. What about the one that says not to provoke one another?” Maggie forced a smile. She didn’t want him to think she was upset, even though he would be right.
The traffic officer blew her whistle and motioned for Graham to pull into the outside lane. Maggie glanced to her right and saw three porters. A woman who appeared to be in her twenties, dressed in a crop top, capris, and sandals exited the car in front of them piled suitcases on the curb. A porter rushed to help her.
Two men, middle age Caucasians, dressed in business suits entered the terminal with carry-on suitcases and a briefcase each. A short Hispanic man, dressed in jeans, a red polo shirt and an Astros ball cap stood at the entrance.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just another casual, but busy, afternoon at the Houston airport. But this was no ordinary day for Maggie. Her husband would board a plane for another of his dangerous assignments.
Graham stopped the car, got out, and pushed the button on his remote control to open the trunk. Maggie joined him as he removed his luggage and photography equipment. “Got your passport?”
“Check.”
“Your ticket?”
“Check.”
“Your money belt?”
“Check.”
Maggie looked up and saw the Hispanic man move toward them. Up close, she guessed his age to be around thirty to thirty-five. Who is this man?
“Graham Palmer?”
“Yes. Do I know you?”
“That don’t matter. I was told to give this to you.” The man held out a large brown envelope.
“What is this?”
“Newspaper clippings. Someone thinks you’ll find them interesting. Open it when you are alone.”
Graham took the envelope. The man turned, walked to a waiting taxi, got in, and shut the door.
Maggie watched as he pulled the ball cap down over his tanned forehead, said something to the driver and took one last look toward her and Graham.
She felt that the man’s dark eyes tried to communicate something to her. What is it? The man nodded his head and the cab sped forward.
And now for the rest of the story. Family Code will be available on Amazon by August 15th. Timing may be slightly different according to Amazon’s workload and orders.