I’m having the most delicious dream. Oh, how I don’t want to wake up. I’m floating on a cloud that’s firm, warm, and . . . moving.

My eyes fly open. I'm not on a cloud. In fact, I’m in my bed. I’m enveloped in Dean’s long, strong arms and am cradled against his chest.

My eyes fly wildly around my room. It’s dark, but my blackout shades are drawn, so it could be the middle of the day and I wouldn’t know. The clock by my bedside says it’s 5:12 a.m.

I sigh and turn my pillow over in hopes that I can go back to sleep. But my quest fails as I’ve already started to replay the scenes from last night.

---

When Dean came over, my mother had been out at her salsa lessons. So, it had just been the three of us for dinner. Anthony seems to have taken to Dean quickly. He talked to him about his drawings and the space station he was building out of old cardboard boxes in his room.

My mother had come home just as I was going up to put Anthony to bed, and I had left her and Dean downstairs in the living room.

When I came down they were in the middle of a conversation that stopped as soon as I walked into the room.

They both looked at me guiltily and then looked at each other.

“What’s going on?” I asked slowly. I walked farther into the room and stood in front of them with legs akimbo and arms crossed while looking down at them.

My mother couldn’t meet my eyes, but Dean grasped my hand and started talking.

“Red, I was just talking to your mom about our conversation a few weeks ago. About your dad, about my theory of his disappearance.”

I looked at him in shock. I couldn’t believe he would broach this subject with my mother without talking to me first.

“What gave you the right to do that?” I hissed.

“Loving you gives me the right,” he hissed back, looking suddenly just as angry as I felt. He got up to stand in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. His touch was gentle and completely at odds with his tone.

“I’ve slept next to you. I know thoughts of your dad’s disappearance chase you, even when you’re sleeping. Let’s put it to rest. Let’s try to clear his name. I know he didn’t have anything to do with the Enron collapse. It makes no sense that he did. Let me help you sleep well again.”

His tone has turned as gentle and imploring as his touch and I felt tears prick my eyes. I look down at my mother and see she’s staring at the ground with her shoulders shaking.

I immediately stepped out of Dean's hold and crouched in front of her.

“Mom? Are you okay? I’m sorry if all of this has upset you.”

She looked up at me and her face was streaked with tears. I haven’t seen her cry since the day my father left. I was startled by how old she looked right now. It was as if the years of holding in her anger, pain, and worry had suddenly caught up with her.

“Oh, Milly. I'm sorry. I have been so unfair to you girls. I did what I thought was best, but I really didn’t know what to do. And I think I’ve made a huge mistake. I'm not sure that it’s not too late to fix it.”

She said this in a voice that is uncharacteristically unsteady, and she couldn’t meet my eyes. My internal alarm went from mild to raging.

“What do you mean, please, explain what you’re talking about?” I tried to sound calm, but I could hear the pique in my voice.

I sat next to her on the couch with Dean next to me, his hand resting on my back. I grabbed both of my mother’s hands and shook them gently. She wasn’t looking at me and appeared to be dazed.

“Mom. Please. Talk to me. I’m listening.”

She looked at me, and with a deep breath squared her shoulders and drew her hands from my grasp.

“I think, Milly dear, it’s time for me to show you instead. Wait here.” She stood up and walked out of the room without another word.

Dean and I stared after her and then looked at each other.

“I—”

“How—”

We both started to talk at the same time.

“You go ahead,” I said.

“Listen, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up without you here. I didn’t plan it. She sat down and asked about my mom. I told her we didn’t really talk much since my dad died. She said I should try to reach out to her and reconcile. I told her I needed to talk to her about what she had said to you all of those years ago . . . and then I just said it.”

“Said what?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.

“That I never blamed you; that I didn’t think your father had anything to do with Enron, and that I don’t think that’s why he disappeared.”

“What did she say?” I urged, my annoyance forgotten for now.

“She snapped at me that it was none of my business which just confirmed for me that I was right. And so, I asked her what she knew. And she said I needed to stop talking about things I didn’t understand. That is when you walked in.”

I just looked at him, shock warring with worry. So, my mother was aware of something she didn’t want us to know.

And right now, she was in her room getting something she has been keeping from me. My stomach twisted, and I started to feel a slight numbing all over my body. I was not prepared for this.

After the FBI called again about a news conference, I talked to Lilly and Addie, and they both agreed to do it. My mother still refused, but said she wouldn’t stop us. So, we were waiting for it to be set up. Agent Walker told us it could take a few weeks to get organized.

That surprised me, given how long she has been asking us about it, but we signed a bunch of media releases earlier this week so I think they are almost ready.

I wasn’t sure if after seeing what my mother was about to show us I would feel the same about doing it.

“Red, say something.” Dean’s urgent whisper interrupted my thoughts.

“I’m sorry . . . just thinking.” I sighed. “It’s okay, D. Let’s just see what she has to say.”

Dean opened his mouth again, but just then my mother walked into the room. She was carrying a small plastic box—slightly smaller than a shoe box and clear. It was full of papers that, from where I was sitting, looked like letters.

“I found this the day your father disappeared. I wasn’t at the grocery store like everyone thinks. I was following him. He had been behaving strangely for several weeks. We were always so close, but for about three months before Enron collapsed, he had been distant. I thought it was because of work, but my gut told me I was wrong.

“So, as the bad news from Enron started trickling in, I watched him. Of course, he was upset, but I could tell it wasn’t because of what was going on at the company. That news actually seemed to make him feel relief.

“About a week before he left, I became suspicious. I went into his office and looked through his drawer. I had never done this before, but I had to know what was going on. And I found a statement from his investment advisor informing him of penalties associated with liquidating your retirement fund before you turned sixty-five.

“I knew then something was horribly wrong. I asked him as soon as he got home. He was furious. He spoke to me in a way I’d never imagined possible. I was shocked, hurt, angry, but also even more suspicious than ever.

“So, the night before Enron collapsed, he’d come to our bed. He hadn’t slept in it since the night of our argument. And he begged for my forgiveness. He said there were things he couldn’t tell me, but he loved me, loved our family, and would do anything to protect us. It’s the very last night we were together.

“The next morning, he got up to take Addie to school; I was supposed to be running errands. He kissed me goodbye like nothing was wrong, but I could sense everything was wrong. So, I followed him.

“After he dropped Addie off he went to the bank, and then he picked up a rental van. He drove to the mall and went inside through the old Macy’s entrance. I sat in my car and waited, I waited for hours, Milly, until I got a call from the police. They were looking for him. Apparently, the withdrawal he made from the bank triggered some sort of alert.

“It was the same day Enron sent everyone home and they were looking for him. The FBI wouldn’t tell me what he had done, other than he had taken a large amount of money and they wanted to talk to him in conjunction with Enron. Then they put it on the news and sent the police and social services to your schools to pick you up.

“I went home, straight to his office, and opened his safe. It was empty except for this box which had my name on it.”

She handed me the box with trembling hands.

There was a yellowing piece of paper stuck to it that simply said, Mary.

I opened the lid and inside were envelopes with her name on the outside.

“What are these,” I asked as I sifted through them. They all looked the same.

She shook her head and exhaled, a sad, weary sound that gutted me.

“When we were dating, he would write to me every day. I would get to work and there would be a letter on my desk. I kept them all, in order by date, in the box in his safe. I was confused, but I started opening them and each one had a piece of paper with a word on it.” She nodded at the box.

“Look, Milly.”

I did. My heart pounding, I opened the box. I pulled out the stack of envelopes, there were dozens of them, and I opened each one. I pulled out the little slips of paper and laid them on the table. I didn’t allow myself to look at the words as I laid them out.

But I heard Dean say, “Holy shit!”, as I laid the last one down and I brought my head up slowly, afraid of what I’d see.

Spelled out on small pieces of paper was this message.

---

“I'm sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. Had to Leave. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t trust anyone. Keep the girls out of this. I’ll come back when it’s safe. I love you always.”

Then on a final piece of paper, larger than the rest and crumpled was a note not in his handwriting.

“I know who you are and who you are working for. Wire ten million dollars to this account or else I’ll expose you. The Fauquier Bank. Account No: 672348111, Routing No: 7645100000034”

Still staring at the papers on the table I started asking questions.

“What does this mean? He was being blackmailed? Expose him? For what?” These questions are shot off, rapid fire. It was Dean’s hand on my knee which made me pause.

“What?” I snapped at him.

“Give her a minute to answer,” he said and raised an eyebrow meaningfully in her direction.

She had her arms wrapped around her waist and was rocking slightly. I immediately wrapped an arm around her.

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. This must be so hard for you.”

“No, Milly, it’s not. I'm so relieved. I wish I’d had the courage to show you sooner. I wanted to do what he said, to not involve you. You and Lilly were gone so soon after we moved and Addie was so angry at me, I just kept quiet.

“But since everything happened last year, I’ve been wondering if we aren’t in danger anyway. I’ve wondered if the FBI knows more than what they are saying. Because I’ve never thought their actions, moving us, hiding us, searching for him so vigorously, was a proportionate response to someone who was accused of stealing money.

“And half of me wants him to come home so we can clear his name and the other half wants him to stay away because I’m sure whatever he was being blackmailed for will make Enron look like child’s play.”

I stared at her, mouth agape. I had to catch my breath, I was reeling from what she had just told us. It was fantastical. My father had been blackmailed. My father had left to protect us.

“What are we going to do?” I asked no one in particular. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was moving a mile a minute.

“Has he been in Syria all this time? And why there? I mean it’s a war zone and has been for a while now,” I wondered.

“I don’t know, honey, I really don’t. He has no family there. I don’t even know how he would have been able to get into the country recently. But, there is one more thing. And I feel crazy even saying it aloud,” she glances up at us furtively, “but I feel like I saw him.”

“What?” Dean and I both shouted at the same time. I jumped off the couch like it was on fire.

“See, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said mournfully.

“No, I’m sorry. Please go on, I mean, it’s just shocking, but if you saw him . . . then tell us,” I stammered.

“Well, it was right after that whole craziness happened with the media being tipped off to where we were. I had just moved in with you. I was in Bethesda a week or so after the madness died down. Just strolling. I went to that cupcake place, you know the one with the stupid lines out the door? They have a TV show? What’s the name?”

She was snapping her fingers, trying to remember, and I had to bite my tongue. “It’s not important. I’ll look it up later.”

“Okay, fine. Anyway, I was in line, like the lemming I am, waiting and someone bumped into me, knocked my purse off my shoulder. I bent down to pick it up. But before I could reach it, someone got it for me. And Milly, the hand that put it in mine, I swear on my life it was your father’s. I thought I was going to faint. But when I looked up, he was gone. I mean, gone. Like a ghost. I didn’t see anyone on the street who looked like him. I got out of line and sat down on one of those benches and cried.

“And this young girl, who had been in line in front of me, came out and handed me a cupcake. She thought I was crying because I lost my place in line. Kwasia!”

I burst out laughing. Dean looked at me, confusion marring his lovely face.

“That word, kwasia, it means ‘idiot,’” I explain. He only nodded, but didn’t seem amused. He looked back at my mother.

“So, he’s here. You saw him.” He wasn’t asking as much as he was affirming.

“I don’t know. I think so. I mean, I’ve been married to him for thirty-four years, I know his hands,” my mother said, her tone almost defensive.

“I believe you,” Dean said. “Hiding in plain sight, I mean. And then keeping a close eye on you after you guys had been exposed.”

“Yes, I think so, too.”

“You are all so matter of fact about all of this. It’s like you’re discussing traffic and not the fact that my father, who has been missing and a wanted criminal for more than ten years, is possibly living close by!” I screamed at them.

“Baby . . .” Dean started to say.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” I shouted. I felt like I couldn’t make sense of anything anyone is saying.

“Milly, stop this. This isn't about you. Sit down and stop shouting!” My mother admonished me.

And that was all it took. I felt ashamed for my outburst. She was right. I needed to calm down.

I sat down.

“What do we do?” I asked quietly.

“Nothing. Do you and your sisters still want to do that press conference?” Her knowing eyes looked at me.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

What would be the point? Was my father really in Syria. Was the FBI lying? We should ask to see whatever footage they claim to have at the very least. I needed to talk to my sisters and fill them in.

I posed these questions to them and Dean agreed.

“Call your sisters tomorrow. Let them know what you have learned and decide how to go from there. But I don’t think you should take what the FBI has told you at face value. Also, call from my office. Don’t use your phone. Maybe they have you guys under surveillance.”

My eyes widened, and I knew he was right. They always know when we have and haven’t been in communication.

---

---

I drift back to sleep. When I open my eyes again, I feel Dean’s absence from my bed keenly, and I sit up. My body feels like it needs a good long work out, and I have a horrible taste in my mouth.

I'm in the middle of brushing my teeth, with the shower running when I hear my bedroom door open. Dean walks into the bathroom and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed on his chest. He's a sight for sore eyes. He's dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. His feet are bare; even his feet are beautiful. I know what I must look like. So I'm shocked when the first thing out of his mouth is, “You look beautiful this morning, Red.”

He's looking at me like I'm holding the secrets to the universe in my hand. I finish brushing my teeth and wipe my mouth before I respond.

“Oh, you must be blind.”

I'm drying my hands when he comes up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and lays his chin on my shoulder. Meeting my eyes in the mirror, he says, “No, I have perfect vision.”

I can’t stop the smile that creeps across my face.

“I’m going to make a call. But if you need me, just shout,” he says as he starts toward the door.

“Wait. You’re going to work from here today? Does Cristal know?” I ask. We hadn’t talked about when or how to tell her about our relationship. So I had decided to keep things to myself.

“Yes, she knows. I told her I’m working from here because we need the day together,” he says nonchalantly and with a tinge of impatience in his voice.

“You told her?” I squawk. My shower forgotten. “We didn’t even talk about this.”

“Well, it was hard to talk to you about anything when you were asleep,” he snaps back, his posture suddenly rigid. “Are you ashamed to be dating me or something?” He narrows his eyes at me.

“No, I'm not. I just don’t want her to think I'm sleeping with you to help my business or anything.”

“Milly, Cristal works for me. She doesn’t get to have an opinion about who I date.” His tone is rife with exasperation.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. She may not say anything to you, but I would have at least liked to have proven myself as a planner before we let everyone know we are together.” I feel my own frustration start to clog my throat.

Dean walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. He brings his head down so we are nose to nose and looks me square in the eyes.

“Red, we’re not children. We don’t have to hide anything. People fall in love every day. If Cristal has a problem with this, I hope she can keep it to herself because if she can’t, then I’ll have a problem.”

I'm stunned. I didn’t hear a single word he said after “fall in love.”

“Milly, did you hear me?” he asks, shaking me slightly.

My breath escapes in a trembling exhalation. “Dean, we’re in love.” I can hear how wondrous my tone is. We’ve exchanged this sentiment so many times, but somehow, hearing him say it so casually feels amazing!

He throws his head back and laughs out loud. I watch the strong column of his neck as his throat moves with laughter. I look up into his delighted face and feel a bubbling of joy in my gut.

When he stops laughing he leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Yes, Red, we are.” And then he wraps his arms around me in the sweetest embrace I’ve ever experienced. He lays his head on top of mine, and we stand there silent for a full minute.

He releases me, walks me to the shower, and opens the glass door. “Get in, I’m late for my call.” And with another quartet of kisses to my cheeks, forehead, and chin he leaves.

It’s only when I’m washing my hair and soap gets into my open mouth that I realize I'm grinning. The bubble of joy that has been bouncing around in my gut turns into a geyser. And I'm so happy I start to sing.

I think about my list. I’ve done all right in just a month. I’ve started a business; I’m having the most amazing sex, and for the first time in my adult life I’m in love. Operation ‘Remember Milly’ is in full effect.