Greg Thompson sat at the desk in his home office. He glanced at the clock, which read 3:57AM. The room was dark except for the dim light coming from a small desk lamp. He had received the call that the plane was on its way only moments before. He picked up the photograph of his family—his wife and two sons—from the corner of his desk. The picture had been taken on a family vacation four years before; he wondered how the time had passed so fast. He leaned back and sighed, clasping his hands together on the back of his head and closed his eyes to think about the past.
Greg had aged a lot since that trip. His once dark-brown curly hair was barely recognizable. Now, his salt-and-pepper hair was messy and his brown eyes were puffy from sleep deprivation. His wife Mary blamed his gray hair on the stress of his job, but he disagreed, thinking it was just part of getting old. After all, he was pushing fifty . . . but still in great shape. Six feet tall, he ran almost five miles at least four days a week and lifted weights three. If not for the color of his hair no one would guess that he was a day over forty. Greg had called a family meeting earlier that evening to discuss the changes that the Thompsons would be facing by making a stranger part of the family. Mary was supportive about Amber’s coming to live with them. She was the only “girl” in the house and would surely appreciate some female support.
It was their two sons—Ben, fifteen, and Gabe, fourteen—who were not so receptive to the idea. Looking at their young faces in the photo, Greg could not believe how quickly they had grown up. Only ten months apart, they were going through the teenage years at almost the same time, keeping Mary in a constant vigilant state. The only thing that separated them was one grade in school. Greg was close with both boys, but had recently felt them surging for independence—especially Ben.
A freshman in high school, Ben was quite popular. To Greg and Mary’s dismay, Ben’s girlfriend, Sara Shultz, was spoiled and hung around a lot of older kids. Before her, he had only been occupied with sports and friends, but that all changed the moment she entered his life as more than just another classmate. She had already gone out with half the boys in his class and had had quite a number of older boyfriends as well. But they learned quickly that Ben was at the age where he wanted to do the opposite of what they thought, so they kept their negative opinions of Sara to themselves while silently praying that Ben would find a girl better suited for him. Sara was bossy and Ben was submissive to her. Greg chuckled at Ben’s buzzed haircut in the picture on his desk. He was currently in the process of trying to let his hair grow out, thinking it was the cool thing to do, and he had developed the annoying habit of constantly flipping his wavy, hair in an attempt to get it out of his eyes. He was on the thin side, especially for someone who consumed a massive amount of food. He was young and active, so Mary never worried about his healthy appetite. Greg glanced down at his slightly bulging stomach and wondered at what age it would catch up to Ben.
Gabe was in eighth grade and strove to be like Ben. However, Greg’s younger son had a kinder, softer side that conflicted with Ben’s personality. Gabe also tried to grow out his hair like Ben, however he inherited his father’s darker curls, which grew out instead of down in the heat and humidity. As close in age as the boys were, Gabe was considerably shorter. But his growth spurt would come. Unlike his brother, Gabe’s baseball career had ended at age seven, after he caught a ball in the eye thrown by Greg in practice one day. Gabe never set foot back on the field.
Mary walked into the office and slid onto Greg’s lap, waking him from his trance. The boys did not look anything like their mother. Greg brushed her blond hair off her forehead and looked into her emerald-green eyes, behind the small-rimmed glasses she wore, and admired as he always did her poise and her perfect posture.
“What are you doing up?” she asked, yawning.
“I’m thinking about tomorrow. The boys were really upset.”
“They’ll be fine, I promise. That girl needs us to be strong for her, and that’s exactly what we are going to be.” Mary smiled softly before kissing Greg on the cheek. “Come up to bed. It’s cold without you.”
Greg laughed. “You have on your flannel grammy jammies. What do you need me for?”
Mary grabbed a pillow from the suede couch, launched it at Greg, and then ran out of the room like a child. Almost ten years separated the couple in age. Mary was Greg’s second wife. His first wife had left him after not even a year, claiming he was a workaholic. Although Mary agreed with that assessment, she was also understanding of his life with the FBI. If she was ever bothered by it, she never let him know. She was proud of his work, believing that he was making a difference in people’s lives. Greg never understood why his first wife had not seen that, but it didn’t matter now. Greg was happy. Everything had worked out for the best.
He walked over to the window and watched the falling snow. He was more exhausted than he wanted to admit, so he picked up his cell phone and turned off the desk lamp. Sleep would be good, he thought, even for a few hours.