“I’m all ears,” Scott said, twisting the cap off another Yoo-hoo and kicking his feet up on the desk.

“Well, you asked for it. Without going into too many details, I got married right before heading up to RTC for boot camp. We were both eighteen and stupid, and family planning was certainly not on my mind at the time. I’m seven weeks in when I get a call from my wife, who says she’s pregnant. All I could do is think of the situation in terms of me. It’s too soon. I’m just starting my career. How can I raise a kid? We’re too young. All that junk went through my mind. So I tell her, ‘Baby, this isn’t a good time for us to start a family. Why don’t you get-I can’t even remember her best friend’s name now-why don’t you get your best friend to drive you over to Planned Parenthood and get it taken care of?’

“Well, my wife had a conniption over that. I yelled at her; she yelled at me. I told her that I was the man of the house and that if she wasn’t going to listen to me, she might as well go back home to her mom and dad-which she did. Mom and Dad thought I was the devil anyway, and they promptly had the marriage annulled. So I guess technically I had one annulment and one divorce. Seven months later, I’m at SEAL training. I hear through the grapevine that she’s had a girl-named her Tyler after her brother. Go figure.”

“You ever see Tyler?”

“Yeah, once. Kelly-I guess I never told you her name-Kelly got remarried a few years later. She and her husband settled down in Omaha. One time I get an extended leave. I find out where Kelly’s living, drive out to Omaha, and stake out the house. It’s about 3:30 in the afternoon and I see this twelve-year-old girl come walking down the street. I would have recognized her anywhere-looked exactly like pictures I’ve seen of my dad at that age, only with beautiful, long brown hair. So, anyway, she comes down the street, walks into her house, and I drive off.”

“You never said anything to her?”

“What am I going to say? ‘Hey, sweetheart. I’m the father who wanted you dead. Glad to see you’re still alive and kicking.’ I’m not even sure she knows I exist. Probably better that way. I’m sure she’s got kids of her own by now. Kelly’s husband seemed like a good, white-bread kind of guy. Gave Kelly and Tyler a good, stable home-a heck of a lot better than I could have given them.”

“And what about the second wife?”

A big smile spread across Hicks’s face. “Ah, Marina. I truly thought she was my second chance. I met her about eight years ago. We had a whirlwind romance, and I married her three months later.”

“Sounds like a good start. What happened?”

“9/11 happened. This job happened. When CTD was created as a response to the attack, it became my life. I wanted to find every little Prophet worshiper who even had a passing thought about hurting America. I wanted to find them and make them pay, practically and tangibly. I spent more and more time on the job. I became consumed. When I did go home, I took my job with me. I guess I wasn’t easy to live with, and finally Marina had enough. One night, she let me have it-laid out all her frustrations. I snapped and hit her. Only time it ever happened, but once was enough. She was gone. I can’t say that I blame her; I deserved it. In fact, the only reason I have a career right now is that she didn’t call the cops even though she had every right to. She was and is a great woman. Her biggest mistake was getting mixed up with me.” Hicks looked distant for a moment, then refocused on Scott. “So, what do you think of me now, Weatherman?”

Scott turned his eyes to the desk and didn’t answer right away. When he did speak, he kept his eyes down. “There was something Mr. Pinkerton used to say to me when I blew it big-time. I think it was a quote from somewhere in the Bible. He’d say, ‘Putting the past behind, I press on toward the goal.’” He turned his eyes up to Hicks. “That’s the only way I’ve been able to forgive myself for some of the junk I’ve done in my life. Friend, I think we both have a lot of ‘putting the past behind’ to do.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Scott said, “You sure you don’t want that Christmas hug?”

Hicks laughed. “Shut up and take that box of liquid mud out of my office.”

After the Christmas feast was consumed, Megan Ricci said, “Sweetheart, why don’t you and Riley go into the living room to digest. Alessandra and I will take care of the dishes.”

“It’s hard to pass up an offer like that,” Ricci replied. As the men got up from the table, Megan gave Riley a quick wink and a nod toward her husband.

Great, Riley thought, Meg got it all worked out, but now I have no idea what I’m going to say to Sal.

The two men entered the living room and settled into a couple of overstuffed leather chairs. The smell of the expensive cowhide filled the air.

“So, let’s have it,” Ricci said.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever you and Meg were conspiring about. That wink meant that either the two of you have some secret romance going on-which is so not you-or she wants you to talk to me about something.”

“Well, now that you mention it,” Riley responded, trying to regain his footing in the conversation, “there is something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a week or so now. You haven’t been yourself lately, Reech. You’ve been moody; you ripped me a new one on the plane; you’ve isolated yourself from me and Travis and Garrett; and I gotta say, you played Sunday like your mind was anywhere but in the game.”

As Riley watched, Ricci’s expression shifted from neutral to anger to profound sadness and back to neutral. Ricci sighed. “I appreciate your concern. Truly I do. I guess I’m just really feeling the pressure. It was never like this in Europe.”

Riley, relieved that it was what he thought it was, said, “You’re taking the game too seriously. Sure, you want to do your best. Sure, there’s tons of pressure. But you know what? If we lose, you’ll still get up the next day. You’ll still have a wife who loves you. You’ll still have a daughter who thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced focaccia. The things that matter will still be here.”

Rather than cheer Ricci up, Riley’s words seemed to darken his mood. Finally he said, “Riley, I want you to promise me something.”

“Sure, buddy. Whatever you need, you know you only have to ask.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to swear to me.”

“Of course, Sal. What is it?”

“I want you to swear to me that if anything ever happens to me, you’ll take care of Meg and Alessandra.”

“C’mon,” Riley laughed, “those Predator DBs are big, but they’re not that big.”

But Ricci wasn’t laughing. “Swear it to me, Riley. If anything ever happens to me, I need to know that my girls are taken care of.”

“Sal, I give you my word,” Riley said somberly. “You never have to worry about Meg or Alessandra.”

“Thanks. I know you’re probably wondering what that was all about,” Ricci said, giving a little self-deprecating chuckle. “I’ve been having these dreams-strange, ugly dreams. I guess they’ve got me a little shaken. You know Italians-we can never shake the feeling that a nightmare is actually someone from the other side warning us that something really bad is about to happen.” He laughed and finished his sentence with ghostly sounds. “Hey, isn’t there a game on right now?” His hand encircled the television remote, and he pressed the red On button.

What was that all about? Riley wondered.

The discussion had certainly taken an unexpected turn. Now, as he looked intently at his friend, something told Riley that this conversation was far from over.