The Beaumont's

[Dewey]

Adelle Beaumont stirred around ten eggs worth of yoke in a frying pan, smiling in the sunlight that poured in through one of the many kitchen windows. Spring was starting to show in France, and she could already picture herself kneeling in her front garden with gloves, clippers, and a pot of water. Oh, the flowers she would purchase from the farmer’s market this weekend. Marigolds, daisies, petunias. Something pink as well, to diversify the color. Then, she would spend hours on a Sunday afternoon beautifying the garden to perfection. She was even considering adding a bird bath and feeders, a cobblestone walkway, a small iron bench, and perhaps some special plants to attract butterflies.

Ever since her husband Felix had retired from the Central Intelligence Agency of France (faucon du soir, as it was called), she had been able to enjoy these simple joys of life daily offered but too often overlooked. It wasn’t the only hobby in which she reveled, though. Her heart was in the culinary arts as well. Sometimes, she would invite women from the book club over the house simply to take part in a meal. A whole shelf of the Beaumont library was reserved for Adelle’s cookbooks. As soon as she bought them, she’d slip them out of the shopping bag, sit in her car, and read the different methodologies cover to cover. Then she’d extract ideas from cooking shows, from experience, and from whatever mood she felt that particular day and contrive meals that only received praise.

Like any woman, shopping was also well received. You wouldn’t find Adelle at a Bloomingdale’s or Macy’s, though, nor at a shopping center with names a few degrees lower in prestige. Rather, she was enchanted by thrift shops and antique stores. She felt there was a piece of history to be had in the items such places sold. This reasoning allowed her to hold a jewelry box and admire it not for its flawless mahogany wood exterior, but for the hands by which it had been passed down from year to year. Who had its previous owners been? Was the box an engagement gift? A Christmas present to a loved one? Was it once handled by royalty? By gypsies? By pirates? At least once a week, she would return home with an assortment of queer accessories: trinkets, oval mirrors with baroque frames, miniature knights, Mexican throws, ivory chess sets, and doll houses—to name a few.

These things were scattered about the Beaumont residence in neat collections, each room a combination of at least three themes. Her husband, though not particularly enthused by the extensive interior decorating project his wife often endorsed, would just shake his head and smile at the oddities of her purchases. That same day, you’d find him lounged on the living room recliner, a Mexican throw draped over his body as he drank warm coffee from a bronze gauntlet.

Adelle could not see herself living anywhere else. Felix’s former colleagues sometimes visited their quaint little home, inquiring as to why they hadn’t invested in more land and bigger property. She felt she could ask quite the opposite when she happened unto their grandiose estates. Why such luxury? Where was the peace in that? Where was the quiet?

She sprinkled cheese in the yoke, and then poured some batter into the waffle mold before dropping a few English muffins in the toaster. A big breakfast was in order to celebrate her only child’s out-of-the-blue cameo. Adelle and Felix had always been proud of their daughter Searlait. She was a bright young woman with strong ambition, but growing up in South Africa had fractured any childish spirit once afforded her. Searlait was withdrawn, perhaps jaded, and unusually quiet for a Beaumont. For generations back, her relatives were extroverted activists who spoke out before crowds of thousands—sometimes millions—to publicly protest a wrong, or support a right. Then again, Searlait was following in her father’s footsteps, for she, too, was an agent of faucon du soir. Her concentration was in the sciences, genetics to be exact. Beyond that, though, Adelle didn’t know much about her daughter’s work. She liked to think this had to do with security reasons, but she also knew in her heart that it simply was Searlait’s nature. She never talked about herself or her business. In fact, she hardly communicated with her parents at all unless they initiated conversation.

Until now. Adelle scrambled the eggs softly and used a spatula to transfer them into a large bowl. Setting them at the dining table’s center, she finished up with the rest of breakfast (which also included blueberry muffins, biscuits with gravy, sausage links, and bacon). She was about to add slices of strawberry to the steadily growing stack of waffles when she heard footsteps descending the staircase. It wasn’t the sound of Felix’s gait; her husband had a way of trotting along the steps with a joyful bounce. There were cat’s feet.

[Dewey]

She looked over her shoulder. “Good morning, my little sparrow.” Neither Adelle nor Searlait could quite remember when the term of endearment had originated. It simply seemed to enter one’s vocabulary of a sudden, and was never questioned since.

“Hello, Mere.” Searlait had always used the french words for mother and father when addressing her parents. She walked across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, toes cringing at its iciness, and foraged through the cabinets for her favorite mug. It was brown, with her name painted in a soft scripted peach, sunflowers blooming behind the letters. “You and Pere still have big Saturday breakfasts?” She curled her fingers around the handle of her rightful mug, and paid homage to the coffee maker with it in hand.

“Oh, of course. Your father needs to stay healthy, you know, now that he’s pushing through the late sixties.” When she laughed though, it sounded like she was celebrating her husband’s handsome youth. “Can you imagine! Turning 68 at the end of the year, and he’s well fit to run a marathon, I’d say.”

Searlait couldn’t find any low fat milk in the refrigerator, so settled for adding a small portion of half&half to her coffee instead, and three tablespoons of sugar. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. He doesn’t look his age at all. I was speaking to him earlier, and he was going over plans you two had to take a cruise?”

“The Italy cruise, yes! We’ve started traveling so much, Searlait. It’s been a wonderful time. Did he tell you about our tours in the United Kingdom? Oh, you should go. I can’t even begin to describe how beautiful Ireland was.”

“Pere seemed to enjoy it.”

“Well you know how he is. He isn’t happy unless he’s pursuing some kind of adventure. It’s what keeps him young. He worked too hard in his career. Sometimes it was stressful.”

Searlait blew on her coffee, but cradled the mug carefully to warm her palms. “I can attest to that. Reid and I were just talking about how we’re utterly lost when it comes to using all this free time. It’s unfamiliar to us.”

“Charles Hainsworth has a way of draining away one’s time,” said Adelle, producing pitchers of apple and orange juice from the fridge. “The two of you are already in your thirties and you haven’t had any admirable length of vacation time. You haven’t visited a country unless it was in the name of faucon du soir. That isn’t healthy, Searlait. You’ll have silver hairs before you’re forty if you continue at this rate.”

“Mere, this is my job. This is what I like to do.”

“I understand that, dear, but there is more to life than a 9 to 5 job. I remember when you were younger—4 or 5 years old—and playing with your little African dolls, you’d always tell me you wanted a big family. ‘How come I have no brothers or sisters?’ You’d ask me that. ‘When I grow up, I’m going to make sure I have lots and lots of children so they’re never alone’. And now you’re over thirty years old and not even married.”

Sometimes, Searlait felt she was reliving the age-old mental prison that labeled career-savvy women like her ‘spinsters’. It was embarrassing, to say the least. She didn’t stay in contact with friends from college, but she knew 90% of them were already busy with young families. “That’s not what’s important to me right now,” she said. “I like what I’m doing with faucon du soir.”

“Your father enjoyed his work with the agency as well, but that didn’t mean he was going to seclude himself from the real world. We were married, we had a child, and he wasn’t an absent father. He was very involved with our lives. Starting a family doesn’t mean you have to give up your passions.”

Searlait drank her coffee quietly. It was no wonder she never called her parents. All they talked about was such business, and when she tried to change the subject to discuss advances in her genetics research, they’d just find a tangent and return back to family matters.

“Oh, don’t go into silent mode now.” Adelle was covering each prepared bowl on the dining table with its respective lid. Felix had driven into town to run a few errands, and she wouldn’t start breakfast without him. “But you have a wonderful man right in front of you, and neither of are making any moves. Well, any legitimate moves, that is.” At this, she donned a mischievous grin, a sparkle in her light blue eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You very well know what I mean. I didn’t let you two share a room for no reason, sweetie.”

Searlait’s face flushed. “Mere!”

“Oh, stop,” Adelle said, laughing. “You’re a grown woman, and I’m your mother. There is no shame in any of it.” She turned on the faucet and rinsed her slender fingers with scented liquid soap. “So, is he any good?”

Again, Searlait’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. “I am not going to discuss this!”

“You are too coy, Searlait! Too reserved!” However, the grin never left her face. She knew she’d get no details from her daughter. Unfortunate, but realistic nonetheless, and amusing if anything else. “Of course, your father—like any father—thinks you and Reid are perfect saints, so we’ll let his naiveté persist.”

“We are both adults anyway.”

“Of course. He seems to care for you very much. Your father and I can both see it in him when he’s around you. He has this special aura around him.”

“Oh, mere,” Searlait said, eyes rolling as she set her mug down. “You and your auras.”

“You can sense a person’s spirit when you’re with them, Searlait! Have no doubts. Those of us who aren’t so consumed with academia stay down to earth and discern these things.”

“You are truly a product of the sixties.” The young woman grinned slightly, though, because her mother’s free-spirited nature was enough to brighten any dark day. Sometimes she wondered if she could pursue such a lifestyle, but knew it would never quite fit in with her nature.

“The sixties. Such a revolutionary era. You don’t see era’s quite like that anymore. A shame.” The sun was growing in intensity outside, its beams now blinding. Adelle reached for the closest kitchen window’s blinds, and turned them to evade the light. “But don’t try to avoid our topic here. I want to know why Reid hasn’t put a diamond on your finger yet.”

“Like I said, we’re both devoted to our careers right now. We haven’t the time to diverge from that.”

Adelle shook her head, unwilling to accept such an answer. “Let me tell you something, Searlait. If this has anything to do with the fact that the agency won’t allow relations between agents, I would tell you with all of my heart to drop faucon du soir and do what makes you happy. I know you love Reid. You’re happier whenever you’re with him. You smile more. My, you even laugh! I don’t want you to lose the opportunity to be with the man you love the way you want to be with him.”

Searlait, though originally annoyed by the subject, was becoming intrigued. She listened without interruption, and crossed her arms as if she suddenly felt exposed. “I do love him.”

“And that love is requited, I’m sure. Why don’t you have your father speak to him about it?”

“What? No.”

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to threaten Reid.” She laughed again. The doorbell rang at that moment. “Speak of the devil! Don’t you worry, little sparrow. We’ll have this whole situation squared away before you know it.” With that, she sprung off to answer the front door.

Searlait wasn’t so sure she was enthused by her mother’s intentions. She placed her mug beside her setting at the dining table, and glanced toward the staircase. Reid would be down any moment. She hoped nothing would be brought up over breakfast. It would give her time to prepare Reid for the conversation with Felix that awaited him. She glanced to her ring finger and sighed softly.

No, she wouldn’t mind wearing a diamond at all

[Dewey]

Conversations with Searlait


Before a gold antique vanity sat a bride in her satin mermaid wedding gown, as composed as the light rainfall of a summer afternoon. Posture errect and gloved hands folded neatly on her lap, she stared at her reflection, entranced by how unlike herself she appeared. She had never been one to don large amounts of makeup, much to her mother's chagrin. But this morning... my, how she felt like a princess.

She brought up a hand to graze her fingers over the diamond necklace that had once been her mother's. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue," the woman had chimed as she bestowed the rightful gifts upon her daughter. Among them were diamond earrings purchased by the bride's father, a diamond bracelet espied in an antique store by her mother, and a baby blue garter with white lace and ribbons. The last item had embarrassed the bride horribly. But tradition was tradition.

"Oh, Searlait, you look absolutely stunning!"

Searlait Beaumont turned from the vanity's mirror and smiled softly at her approaching mother. She stood slowly, still not used to the way her gown hugged her figure. "How does the dress look? There aren't any makeup stains anywhere are there?"

Adelle promptly inspected every inch of the gown, running her wrinkled hands up and down the satin to catch a misplaced piece of beaded metallic embriodery, or a loose thread, or a tumbleweed of fuzz, or a dreaded stain. Occasionally, she'd pluck at something or dust something away, but finally she stood with a "everything looks fine." She grabbed the chapel train of the gown and for the fifteenth time that day, extended it out to its full length to iron out any wrinkles with her palms.

Searlait let her fuss about and looked about the bridal room. It was a beautiful little sitting area, with antique couches and chaise lounges, private bathrooms, a kitchenette with water and breath mints, and framed black and white pictures of famous cinematic couples from movies like Gone with the Wind and Casablanca. She knew such decor was supposed to set anguish brides at east, but Searlait felt no anxiety whatsoever this morning. She knew she wanted to marry Reid. She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. They had dated for many years, formany long years, until they were finally engaged. This moment she now experienced had been long in the making. She wouldn't falter a step when walking down the aisle toward her soon-to-be husband.

Adelle once again stood up. "I simply love this dress, Searlait. I'm so glad you decided on it instead of that hideous Maggie Sotero dress that woman tried to push onto you at the bridal boutique. I wish we had filed a complaint with her employers."

"She was dreadfully overbearing."

"I can only imagine how many poor brides have been bullied into whatever dresses she's picked out for them. I'm so glad you had me and Lunetta to stand up for you. Lord knows we weren't about to take that nonsense."

Searlait smirked just slightly. "I didn't like the dress she insisted on anyhow. It was far too...ennuyer." She hesitated a moment after speaking the word. She never believed she'd ever consider anything 'boring'.

Her mother was slightly surprised as well, but quickly laughed to encourage her daughter. "Oh, I know! This, though? Just look at your figure in this." She patted Searlait's left hip. "Reid won't be able to contain himself."

At this, Searlait blushed. "Mère!"

"It's true!"

Searlait shook her head disapprovingly, but in doing so felt the tiara holding her veil shift ever so slightly. She quickly touched it and frowned. "Is ot off center now?"

"Come here, sit down. Let me put in a few more hairpins to set it in place."

The bride did as she was told, returning to the vanity to gaze at her reflection. "You don't think it's too much makeup?"

"Sparrow, it's hardly enough, if you ask me! You should've gone for the vixen look."

"I don't want to look like the madame of a brothel, mère."

"Oh, you're impossible, dear." Adelle smoothed a brunette lock under Searlait's tiara. "How do you feel?"

Searlait exhaled a small sigh. "Ready." She smiled at her choice of words. "I am ready. I love Reid. He loves me. There's no reason why we shouldn't be married."

"Of course there isn't! Whoever would say such a thing?"

"I don't know. I just hope it isn't a burden for him. He's very invested in his work. I don't want a marriage to keep him from pursuing opportunities that may come up to advance his career."

"And why shouldn't it keep him from pursuing things? Marriage is a beautiful thing, Searlait. It isn't an accessory in life. And it shouldn'e be treated like one. When you exchange vows with someone, you're promising your lives to each other. You become each other's first priority. I can only hope that this marriage brings the both of you down to earth. You can't work your entire lives away. You must take time to simply enjoy life, and enjoy each other."

"I know," the bride replied softly. "Perhaps the timing isn't right, then. Reid is at his prime within the agency. I would simply hate for him to turn something down because it's abroad or too time-consuming.."

"Now you listen to me, little sparrow, and you listen good. You and Reid are just going to have to learn what's important to you in life. It took me and your father nearly two decades to battle it out, and I can only hope it doesn't take you that long. There's nothing more important in life than finding the right person, your soul mate. Once you've found that person, you do everything you can to hold on to them tight. Otherwise, you'll only have regret for the rest of your life."

* * * * *

"Oh, my little sparrow, what is wrong?"

Six year old Searlait Beaumont sat at the cafe where her mother had bid her to wait, and clutched an African doll as tears ran down her face. "Where are we going, mère? Why is père not with us?"

Adelle sat on the edge of a chair beside her daughter and stroked the girl's wavy brunette hair. "He's not able to come with us just yet, my dear." She produced a handkerchief from one ofher pieces of luggage, and wiped dry her daughter's cheeks.

"But you didn't leave him a note in the kitchen like you always do. How will he know where to find us?" The girl's large green eyes, swollen with tears, peered up at the woman.

Adelle found herself trying to swallow a growing lump in her throat. Her chest ached, and she momentarily glanced away to blink away any evidence of her current sorrow. "Searlait, come. We must head to our gate."

Searlait reluctantly stood, arms crossed over her doll, not wishing to hold onto anyone's hand because she was "a big girl now". She felt her mother's grip on her backpack nonetheless, though, and decided to pretend she didn't notice.

"We're going to visit your grandparents, Searlait. Won't you be happy to see them? In time for your seventh birthday."

"I want to spend my birthday with père! He said we could go on a safari."

Adelle frowned. Under her breath, she murmured, "there are many things he's said."

Searlait looked over her shoulder. "Huh?"

"Nothing, dear. Keep walking."

"When does the plane leave? Can't we eat something first? I'm so hungry, mère."

"In three hours, dear."

"Three hours! Maybe père has time to come, too, then! Can we call him?"

"No, Searlait," her mother said, firmer than she intended.

"But why not?"

Adelle, exhausted and overwhelmed, turned the girl around to face her and then knelt before her. "Searlait, I need you to be a big girl right now, okay? You mustn't ask me all these questions about your father. Just.. stay quiet, please, and be on your best behavior."

Searlait watched her intently, a small frown upon her pale pink lips. Finally, she acquiesced to her mother's demands with a slight nod. "Can I read while we wait for the plane?"

"Yes, what a wonderful idea. Would you like me to buy you a book from the gift store?" Her daughter nodded again, and so the two strolled into a nearby tourist shop. Adelle welcomed the hideaway. Being out in the open as they were made her nervous. Every member of the security personnel, every camera they passed...she felt as if the short walk to her plane's gate was miles away.

While Searlait scanned the small selection of books afforded her, Adelle stood just a yard away, trying to pick out snacks they could enjoy on their flight. Her gaze fell upon a packet of trail mix. Felix's favorite... For a moment, her heart leapt. Was she really doing this? Was she really running away from her husband? She tried to argue with herself. You're being irrational, Adelle. Things will get better. It's South Africa, after all. Did you expect the work to be easy? You can't just take off like this. Searlait needs her father... "No," she told herself. Nothing could dissuade her. Just weeks ago, they had nearly been burned alive by a radical white supremacist group. They lost everything in that fire, and could've lost their lives! Adelle watched her daughter, her pride and joy, and knew she could never forgive Felix for putting their family in such danger.

"Mère, I picked out a book." The little girl, in her sun dress and Mary-Janes, returned to her mother holding up an English translation of Beowulf.

"Sweety, that book is too old for you. Get something from the children's section."

"But mère, I like the picture on the front." She pouted and looked to the book's cover, which was simply black, with a man in chainmail on its front. "I want to read it!"

Adelle sighed and grabbed a pack of trail mix before ushering her daughter to the cashier to check out, and then leading her to the plane's gate. "I want you to keep to yourself on the plane, do you understand? No more questions. Just quietly read."

Searlait nodded, one hand in her mother's grip, the other clutching her newest literary acquisition. She didn't know what the book was about, but she had liked the title, and how it made her think of the wild dogs that howled all night long behind their current house. Suddenly, she felt her mother's strong gait come to a jerk. Searlait looked up with a frown, about to ask her mother what was wrong. She didn't need to, though. Just yards ahead of them stood a group of men, all in black suits and black sunglasses, pieces of plastic in each right ear. The NSA! At the center of the group was Searlait's father, Felix Beaumont.

"Père! You made it!" Searlait bounded over to her father, who promptly scooped her up in his arms and lifted her off the ground.

"Hello, little sparrow." He kissed her hair, and then turned his attention to his wife with a sigh. "Adelle, what in God's name are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing, Felix. I can't take this anymore." She quickly switched from English to French, a language Searlait hadn't quite mastered just yet. "We nearly lost our lives, Felix! What is wrong with you? How can you force us to live in these conditions? What if we had lost our daughter in that fire? Our precious daughter! Innocent, sweet, and oblivious to all the danger you're putting her in."

"I don't think she's oblivious, Adelle, and I've been meaning to speak with her about it. She's perfectly fine. She's a strong little girl."

"Perfectly fine! Felix, she's completely lost trust in everyone! Don't fool yourself. When we stayed at the embassy, all she could ask me was whether or not the people there intended on harming us. You're destroying our daughter's innocence!"

"I didn't order those men to murder us, Adelle," he shot back. "Don't make me out to be some villain in this. I'm not deliberately putting you or our daughter out on the line every day. I do everything in my power to keep the both of you protected."

Searlait, bored with words she could not understood, put a hand to her father's cheek. " Père, can we go home now? I don't want to go to Grandma and Grandpa's..."

Felix looked to Adelle, continuing in French. "Your parents, Adelle? I'm sure you must tell them I'm some God awful man, hm?"

"I'm trying to look out for the well-being of Searlait. She idolizes you. She doesn't realize what you're doing to this family."

"What I'm doing! And what exactly am I doing, Adelle?"

"You're ruining our lives!" Adelled cried out.

There was silence between them. Felix only stared at her.

The woman glanced away, unable to look into his eyes. She reached for Searlait, to take her into her own arms.

But Felix pulled away. "I'm not letting you go, Adelle."

"Felix, get out of my way. Now."

He glanced back toward the entourage with whom he'd come, and then turned toward Adelle. "If I can't stop you, these men will. They'll escort you back to our home."

"Our home! We receive death threats every day, Felix! I can hardly call that a home!"

"I'm doing the best I can right now."

"Well it's not good enough! I'm not going to raise Searlait in this kind of environment!"

Felix lowered his voice now. His expression was softer. He was pleading now. "Adelle, please. I need you and Searlait in my life. Don't leave. I promise you I will make this work out. Trust me..."

Adelle held his gaze for a long moment. An eternity, almost. Then finally, she swallowed that lump in her throat and glanced away, shaking her head. "Only because your daughter loves you so much, Felix."

"And you?"

"I don't know what I think of you these days."

* * * * *

Searlait was three-quarters of the way through Beowulf when she heard the car pull up in front of her parents' second house. She closed the novel and set it aside the dictionary on a coffee table. The book featured many vocabulary words with which she was not familiar, but she would not be deterred. Every time she discovered a word she did not know, she simply looked it up and added it to the growing list within her black spiral notebook.

Eager to see what company they had, she stood up to head outside. She liked this house more than the first, because the windows were boarded up, and so no one could throw burning objects through the glass. Now at the front screen door, she could see her father emerge from the parked car. She smiled and ran out across the front yard, barefoot, to greet him.

"Père!" She extended her arms to embrace him.

Felix Beaumont smiled down at his daughter and crouched down so she could wrap her skinny arms about his neck. "Hello, little sparrow. How are you today?"

"Good. Mère is making your favorite for lunch."She stayed in his arms as he carried her inside.

"Oh, wonderful. Because I'm so hungry. I might just eat you up dear!" He began to playfully gobble at her arm.

Searlait shrieked with giggles. "Père, no!"

Felix chuckled and set the girl down. "Dear, why don't we have a little father and daughter chat, hm?"

"Okay! Can we practice my new spelling words? And the words from my book?"

"We most certainly can. We'll do that after lunch. Right now, I just want to talk to you."

Searlait led the man back to the living room and plopped down on one of the rattan couches. She leaned forward for a moment, to adjust her novel and notebook, making sure they were perfectly parallel. Then she sat erected and folded her hands neatly upon her lap.

Felix smiled at his daughter's properness. He sat beside her and ran his fingers through her silken hair. "How do you like our new house?"

"Oh, much better than the first. My bedroom is bigger. And I like when the sun comes up because I can see it from my window."

"You enjoy watching the sunrise still, I see."

"Mmhmm. But now I don't have to go into the kitchen to see it!"

"I'm glad," he said. For a moment, he was quiet, lost in his thoughts. He ran his knuckles over his beard stubble.

"Is something wrong, Père?"

"No no, dear. Your mother and I just want to make sure you're happy. That you feel safe."

"There aren't bad men here. No one has come to hurt us."

"And school?"

"School is okay," the girl responded. "The first one mère and I went to would not let me sign up, but we found a smaller one further away that I like better anyway."

"You know, Searlait, things have been hard lately. I know you and your mother haven't had the best time these past few weeks. I want you to know that I'm sorry if I've made you upset at all."

Searlait smiled. "It's okay, père. Will you promise to be at my birthday party, though? It's next week. That will make me very happy."

"Then I will be there," he said.

* * * *

He wasn't. Searlait spent the better part of the morning, and the first half of the afternoon, glued to the screen door, waiting for her father's car to appear in the driveway. Finally, at 3 PM, a visibly upset Adelle came to her daughter and placed a hand on her back.

"Sweetheart, why don't we start without your father? He may be running late. He told me that he wanted you to blow out your candles if he was."

"No, I want to wait. He promised he would be here."

4 PM. 5 PM. 6 and 7. Searlait had spent her birthday finishing up Beowulf and completing her vocabulary list. Now, she sat in a darkened kitchen, chin resting on her palms as she stared at the cake her mother had prepared. Red velvet, with cream cheese whipping and slices of strawberry throughout.

Her mother walked in, then, turning on the lights to find something. She was surprised to find her daughter. "Searlait, I thought you were fast asleep already. How long have you been sitting here?" She joined the girl at the table with a frown.

"He didn't come, mère. Is he upset with me?"

"Oh sweetheart, no. You did nothing wrong. He just..." ...has his priorities out of order, forgot his only daughter's birthday, is becoming negligent toward his own family... "...got caught up with work, dear. Look, let's jut celebrate, me and you. How about that? I'll even paint your nails and put your hair in rollers so you can be a princess on your birthday."

Searlait looked down at her transparent nails. "No, I think I'll go to bed." She stood up, and left the kitchen without another word.

* * * * *

"You forgot your poor daughter's birthday, Felix! That's what's the matter! I can't believe you! And don't even try to give me an excuse, Felix! I'm done with your excuses! I'm done with you!"

"I was at a meeting, Adelle, with members of the UN about divestment movements. I couldn't just leave!"

"Damnit, Felix!" They were in the kitchen, and at this point, she grabbed a glass, and shot it at the floor. "You're not the one who has to tell a seven year old girl that the father she adores is too caught up with his work to wish her happy birthday. You're not the one who has to soothe her after school because her classmates are teasing her because of your involvement with the government. You're not the one who wipes away her tears, or bandages her cuts when she falls from her bike, or reads bedtime stories to her, or assures her that not every white person here is a rascist who hates her!"

"I understand all that, Adelle, but I'm try--"

"No you're not! You're not trying, Felix! And that's why I'm leaving."

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Do we need to go through this again?"

"Oh, we won't be going through anything this time, Felix, because you're not stopping me. Not you, not your little agents, and not even Charles! I'm through! I've had enough!"

"Let me talk to Searlait and explain w--"

"NO! Damnit, Felix, NO! Do not go anywhere near Searlait, do you understand me? She adores you so much that she can't even express her anger to you. You feed her all these promises and lies, and then continue to let her down. You promised her a new bicycle two years ago, and she still hasn't received it. You promised her a safari months ago, and it still hasn't happened. For God's sake, Felix, you promised her a kitten for her birthday today! A kitten! All you had to do was find one roaming the villages. And you couldn't even do that much!"

"Do you think I enjoy disappointing our daughter, Adelle? I don't. What would you have me do, though? This is my career! We both knew the long hours it would entail. You knew this when you married me. When you wanted a child, I said fine, but don't act as if I didn't tell you at the same time that previously made obligations would pull me away from fatherhood now and then."

"That's your problem! You act as if fatherhood, as if our marriage even, is an outfit you wear only when you're at home! You're a father and husband every damn hour of the day, Felix! This isn't something on your priority list in life. This is your life. It's who you are. If you don't think you have the time to handle it, you tell me that, and I'll leave this damn country in a heartbeat!"

"Then leave, Adelle," he roared at her! "I'm sick and tired of you criticizing me every night when I come home. A fine mother you are; you probably tell poor Searlait the cruelest things about her own father."

"Lord knows I do not. Though I've every temptation to!"

"If you're unhappy, then go! Leave! Run to your parents' vineyard like you want to. But you are not taking Searlait."

Adelle gave him an incredulous look. "And you'll have me leave her here, with you? That's a laugh!"

The arguing went on for over half an hour more. In her room, Searlait could hear every last word. She eventually placed her hands onto her ears to keep everything out, but she couldn't stop the tears that zigzagged down her face.

* * * * *

"Mrs. Beaumont, I'm afraid I can't let you through." A young agent of France's NSA, no more than twenty-five years of age, blocked the woman in front of him from continuing through the airport's B concourse. He knew her flight was at GATE 7, and that it was set to depart in forty-three minutes.

Adelle almost growled at him. "Step out of my way, boy. You've no idea who you're dealing with here."

"Mrs. Beaumont, I'm going to have to escort you back to your home under strict orders from--"

"You've no right to forbid me from boarding this plane."

"With all due respect, m'am, a hold has been put on your passport and visa. Even if I were to let you by, the staff at the gate will not let you board."

Adelle's jaw tightened. She looked down at her daughter, whose hand she firmly clutched. Searlait was apathetic today, dreadfully quiet. Not putting up a fight against her mother's will. Perhaps it was her own will now. "Does your government understand," she said to the young man, "how much despair it's causing my daughter and myself?"

"We extend our sincerest apologies and--"

"No you don't," she said. "You couldn't care less. There's no life for us here! I need to leave, for my daughter's well-being."

"M'am, I--"

"Agent Johnson, it's all right," said a voice from behind.

Adelle turned. "Felix, don't you dare try to--"

"I'm not here to stop you, Adelle. I only wish to say goodbye to Searlait." He knelt down before his daughter, but found himself at a loss for words. He could only stare at the floor for the longest time, as if ashamed. Finally, he looked up and caressed the side of her face wit his knuckles. "I love you, little sparrow. You know that, yes?"

Searlait nodded her head once.

"You take care of your mother." He glanced up at Adelle briefly and then back to Searlait. "You two will do well in Nice. I will make sure your grandfather gets a kitten all for your own."

Searlait looked down at her Mary-Jane's. "Can't you come with us, père?"

"Walk away from this," Adelle said suddenly, face broken. "Felix, please. This has gotten out of control. Surely you see that. Just..walk away from it. For Searlait." She paused. "..for me."

Felix stood up and combed some of Adelle's wild auburn hair behind her ear. "You know I cannot do that, Adelle."

"Please, Felix...don't make me do this." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She felt if she spoke any louder, she might choke.

"Don't go," he whispered to her, hand at the back of her neck.

"I can't stay here. I can't keep doing this. Please come with us, Felix. You could always find work elsewhere."

"We're so close to abolishment, Adelle. I simply can't.."

"They have put a hold on my passport and visa. You have made it impossible for at least Searlait and I to leave."

"I had the hold lifted. You're free to go wherever you'd like."

She looked at him, not understanding. "This is the end, then?"

"It's what you wanted."

"Oh Felix, not like this! I want you in our lives. All of you! Please dont tell me that your job with NSA isn't more important than your family!"

"It's not, Adelle. I simply endeavor to give all families the peace and happiness and freedom that we so readily enjoy. Don't you understand? There are people hurting in this world, Adelle. I've been called to remedy that. I can't turn away from it."

She didn't reply. He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You do what you feel is best for you and Searlait." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, bent down to kiss the top of Searlait's hair, and then turned to walk off.

* * * * *

For the next six years, the Beaumont family of three tried to keep it together in Johannesburg, South Africa. They moved from house to house at least once every six months, dealt calmly with threats as they came one after another, and learned to perfect the art of forgiveness. Searlait by this time was thirteen years old, and receiving private tutelage at home.

Today, she sat at the kitchen table with her math tutor, Babafemi Akinrade. They were reviewing the homework he'd assigned her, and he had given her the answer key, so that she could see her mistakes and ask questions accordingly.

After twenty minutes of having the asnwer key in her possession, Searlait decided to speak. Babafemi was troubling himself with the view outside the kitchen window, and Searlait pursed her lips in disapproval. "What's the matter?"

He turned suddenly and quickly said "Nothing at all. Are you done looking over the key?"

"I was done after a minute. There are no errors in my homework. Everything is correct."

Skeptical, he took the key back, and grabbed her looseleaf sheet of algebraic questions as well.

"I know what you're going to do."

Babafemi's eyes darted toward her. "I'm going to double check your homework."

"No, I know why you're here. I know what's making you nervous."

He forced a laugh. "Foolish child, you're imagining things. I only worry about your mother. Shouldn't she have been back from the market already?"

"You're very preoccupied with my mother's whereabouts. I suppose I would be, too, if I intended on killing her."

The man froze.

"You wish to kill me as well. Or at least hold the both of us hostage, so you can bargain with my father."

"I don't know what you are talking about. You're just a foolish girl. Why would I want to do such a hideous thing?"

"Because some white supremacist group is paying you good money, I guess. They promised to get you and your family out of the slums."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I am a simple school teacher, and that is all."

"My father will hunt you down until you're dead if you do this."

"Your father is a very dangerous man. He has upset many people."

"People who fight for the freedom of others often do."

Her tutor glanced at her. Suddenly, he lurched forward and seized her arm, pulling her to her feet. He produced a gun from his belt loop and pressed it against Searlait's temple. "You should not have said a word."

Searlait remained calm and unmoving. She could sense his hesitation. He would not pull that trigger. The stakes were too high. She simply said, "I always knew you were an evil man."

"How foolish. How could you know such a thing?"

"I have a way of uncovering secrets."

He said nothing.

A car pulled into the driveway, then, and Searlait heard her mother call for her. "Don't speak at all," Babafemi hissed at her.

Adelle Beaumont entered the house, the screen door screeching to a close behind her. "Searlait, don't you hear me calling for you? Where are you?" Footsteps, and then the kitchen's swinging door was pushed open. Adelle screamed, the bag of groceries she was clutching falling to the floor.

"Do not move!" Babafemi ordered.

"What on earth are you doing? Let her go this instant!"

"You need to call your husband and explain the situation. Be sure to tell him that if he doesn't divorce himself from Mr. Mandela's efforts immediately, that I will kill you and your daughter."

"Please, just let her go.."

"DO IT!"

Adelle instantly grabbed the wallphone and dialed from memory the number she was only to contact in the case of an extreme emergency.

A receptionist answered. "How may I help you?"

"This is Adelle Beaumont. I need to speak with my husband."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Beaumont. Mr. Beaumont is in a meeting right now. May I take a message?"

"This is urgent. Tell him it appears we've run out of milk." She slammed the phone back down on its receiver before Babafemi could reach her in time.

"What have you done!"

"He should be here shortly," said Adelle. With the entire force of NSA behind him.

- - - -

((to be continued...))

[Dewey]

Though the NSA were typically seen as being largely negligent of agents' families and loved ones, when push came to shove, they approached veery hostage situation like a large-scale terrorist attack. Needless to say, the matter conerning Adelle and thirteen-year-old Searlait was squared away within minutes of NSA agents arriving at the Beaumont home. Babafemi was shot and taken into custody, and an anxious Felix rushed to his wife and daughter and pulled them into a tight embrace.

"God, are you two all right?"

Adelle only hit his arm. "What took you so long!"

"He wasn't going to shoot, mère," said Searlait, as calm as ever. Seemingly unfazed by the events of just minutes ago. "He was too scared."

"Impressive conclusion, my dear Searlait," came a voice from behind them. The Beaumont's turned around to see none other than Charles Hainsworth approaching them, Chief-in-Command of the entire NSA division.

Searlait stared back at the middle-aged man, eyes vacant. "Charles." Without excusing herself, she walked past him and exited the kitchen.

"Charles, what are you doing in my home?" Adelle's face was taut and stern. "You know as well as anyone that you're unwelcome here. You're the last person I want to see after a scenario like the one Searlait and I just experienced." Then she, too, left the men.

Charles raised his eyebrows, ever amused by women. "I can see why you dread coming home every day, Felix..."

* * * * *

That wasn't the first time Searlait had met the notorious Charles Hainsworth. In fact, the first time occured when she was but six years old. It happened just weeks after her family's run in with South Africa's version of the Ku Klux Klan when they were residing within the French embassy for their personal safety.

Searlait was combing the hair of her favorite African doll as she sat in a chair, waiting for her father to be dismissed from a meeting. Her little Mary-Jane's couldn't even reach the floor below, but Searlait was unimpressed with how small she looked in the embassy building. She was in her own world, practicing her French with her inanimate friend.

"What do you think, Princess Kagiso?" The name came from the Tswana language, which Searlait was required to learn in school, along with Afrikaans and Swahili. "Is my English sounding better?"

"I think it very much is."

Searlait looked to her left, where a average height, slender man in a tan suit watched her with a smile. "Who are you!"

"My name is Charles Hainsworth. And you must be Searlait Beaumont. I work with your father. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear."

Searlait scrunched up her nose. "Are you the Charles mère doesn't like?"

Charles chuckled. "That may very well be the case. May I sit with you, Searlait?"

The little girl shrugged. "I guess so." She continued brushing her doll's hair, none the wiser that the very man before her was within years of being considered to preside as Chief-in-Command of the entire nation of France's security administration. He would've had better luck winning her favor if he claimed to be Santa Claus.

"Your English sounds very good."

"It's okay.."

"Oh don't be hard on yourself. English can be a hard language to learn."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, of course."

"Do you know a lot of languages, Mr. Charles?"

"I do. I know French, English, Russian, and different languages used within Africa."

"You must be really smart!" She looked up at him, green eyes smiling.

"You enjoy learning, do you? Well keep that up. Perhaps I can offer you a job when you're old enough."

The girl giggled. "I want to be a teacher!"

Charles smiled at her. Soon after, the conference room doors opened and issued forth Felix Beaumont who, though visibly exhausted, seemed to be in good spirits. He came over to the pair and shook hands with Charles.

"I see you've met my little sparrow."

"Père!" Searlait blushed at the use of her nickname in public.

"I have. She certainly is something else."

* * * * *

"Agent Beaumont, you seem to have become something of a distraction within this agency."

Searlait Beaumont, 28 years old, sat on the edge of her seat in Charles Hainsworth's office within NSA headquarters. She had currently been employed by the agency for only three years, but everything within her demeanor suggested seniority didn't matter much to her. Her posture was flawless, hands neatly folded on her lap with one leg crossed over the other. She wore a black skirt-suit this particular day, hair drawn back in a loose ponytail with black-framed glasses at rest upon the bridge of her nose.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"A number of agents have expressed concern.."

Searlait was growing livid, but managed to compose herself. "A number of male agents, you mean."

Charles looked at her. "I'm not at liberty to disclose the gender of those who've voiced this concern, Agent Beaumont. However, it's become increasingly apparent that your peers find you difficult to work with."

"Perhaps, Mr. Hainsworth, that remains to be seen among men invested in their work, as opposed to the hormone-driven boys your agency seems apt to employ."

"You get that from your mother."

"I get a lot of things from my mother." Searlait's stoicism to anyone else would have been daunting.

Charles was not pleased with the attitude, though. "I'm afraid that I cannot continue to offer you employment if you continue to cause problems for your peers. This isn't an agency for lone wolves, Agent Beaumont. This is a team, a body of talented and skilled professionalas."

"Have I not even the opportunity to defend my actions?"

"Defend your actions?"

"Forgive me, Mr. Hainsworth, but I refuse to join the ranks of scantily clad female agents within NSA who feel the exposure of certain endowments will speed up their ascent on your hierarchy. Am I difficult to work with? Yes. I am. Because I demand excellence, and professionalism and, God forbid, respect from my fellow agents. This isn't a circus to me, or a networking arena for singles. This is the career I have chosen. I take it seriously, sir, and I expect those around me to do the same."

Charles watched her, and then diverted his attention to the paperwork on his desk. "That will be all, Agent Beaumont."

"I beg your pardon?"

He looked up at her. "You're dismissed. Good day."

Searlait, somewhat surprised by how readily her defense was received, shakily stood to her feet, frowning. It wasn't until she left Charles' office that a new boost of confidence entered her steps. She even managed to wear a victorious smile, albeit a small one, for the remainder of the day.

That is, until she found a pink slip in her mailbox at the close of her shift, dismissing her from the agency.

* * * * *

"Charles is a misogynist."

"Searlait, that's a preposterous thing to say," Felix exclaimed, while he, Adelle, and their daughter sat down together for dinner later that evening.

"Well it's true. What other reason would he have to dismiss me? He clearly said I was becoming a distraction, and that my peers claimed I'm difficult to work with. To this date, I have only worked with male agents. Because I do not choose to celebrate an assignment's success by means of a one night stand, I suddenly become 'difficult' to work with."

"Searlait, please don't talk that way," said her mother.

"I just can't believe it, sparrow. Charles has had a shaky history with women, yes, but he wouldn't dismiss a fine candidate simply because she's female."

"There's a first for everything, père."

The doorbell rang then. Felix excused himself to answer it while Adelle and Searlait resumed the discussion.

"Well, there's always the Center for Scientific Research, yes?"

"Yes, I suppose. Although a year of doing nothing to advance my studies in genetics looks horrible."

"Don't worry about it, dear. Once you send in your resume, they'll jump at the chance to have you."

"I fully intend on submitting my CV online tomorrow morning."

"Oh, I certainly hope you reconsider."

Both women looked up from their dinners to find Charles Hainsworth standing in the dining room, Felix behind him with a toothy grin.

Searlait frowned, but Adelle beat her to any remarks. "Charles Hainsworth, you considerable bastard. How dare you fire my daughter!"

"Now, now," chimed in Felix. "There's clearly been a mistake. Searlait, Charles would like to speak with you in the sitting room."

Searlait looked from her mother to her father to Charles, back through the cycle again. A mistake? What in heavens did that mean? She stood, though, and exited into the aforementioned room, anxious to hear whatever news Charles bore.

Once out of the earshot of Felix and Adelle, Charles clasped his hands before him and admired the Beaumont sitting room. "Searlait, the senior council of NSA--made up of the Chief Executives of each Department--has been watching you closely."

She sat and crossed her arms. "Oh?"

"You've excelled wonderfully in all given assignments. You're highly professional, highly skilled, and quite gifted. Every year, NSA reviews an applicant pool to which Deparments contribute their finest candidates. This review can take up to six months, but at its end, we select the top three candidates and pursue a trial 'agent-ship' with them within a special division of NSA, the name of which I cannot tell you at this time. However, I can tell you that you were among the three selected this year. You begin within this new division on Monday morning, 0500 hours."

Searlait was many things at that moment. Appreciative, shocked, overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say. So the pink slip?"

"Merely theatrics. I needed a reason to dismiss you from NSA, and didn't have one. I had to make one up."

"So there haven't been any complaints, then, against me."

"Oh no, that part is still true." He offered her a smile and then bowed his head some. "Welcome to the real agency, my dear Searlait. We'll expect you bright and early on Monday morning. Have a good evening."

* * * * *

Charles had been correct. The complaints against her were indeed existent, and not more so than in the first partner she would have during her 'trial agent-ship' with this special division of NSA, which she later found to be called faucon du soir.

Logan O'Connor.

The two were driving back to the base of their operations after a long night of tracking targets, and Agent O'Connor at somt point between 11 PM and 2 AM seemed to have fallen under the impression that this entire charade was similar enough to a date to pass for one. He began to carry on, then, in s most unprofessional demeanor that Searlait found obnoxious. Talking about past relationships, about what he liked in women, about the personality traits he found most appealing in Searlait.

When he began to speak about potential ways for the two to end their night, Searlait's right foot became heavy on the car's gas pedal as she accelerated from 100 to 170 KM an hour. Logan eventually realized their current plight and gripped an arm rest with a deep frown. "Searlait, what are you doing!"

"Perhaps if you for once second stopped focusing on my assets, you'd notice that a car has been following us for the past hour."

It took time, and a traffic accident, but they eventually lost the car. Once back at the hotel where they were staying, Logan proceeded to apologize in abundance for his errors.

"I should've been more observant, Searlait. I apologize."

She climbed the stairs behind him (she had insisted he go first) and slightly rolled her eyes. "Please, call me Agent Beaumont."

"Right, of course." He smiled. "I assure you, I'm generally more aware of my surroundings than that. Have no doubt about it."

"I'm sure."

"This assignment was quite a success, though, wouldn't you agree?"

"Not quite, but we at least accomplished the minimal tasks." She slipped her key card from her purse and stepped toward her room. A shadow appeared on her door, and she realized Logan was directly behind her. Frowning, she turned and watched him. "...I'm sorry, is something wrong?"

"No no, not at all. I just.. assumed you'd perhaps like me to escort you safely into your room."

She blinked. "I see. Well, here I am. Thank you." She inserted the card and pushed open the door, turning around in the crack that was produced to keep Logan from entering. "Good night, Agent O'Connor."

Logan placed a strong hand on Searlait's door and smiled down at the woman. "You know, if you feel unsafe, I'd be more than happy to accompany you tonight. I can sleep on the couch or a roller bed, if that would make it easier for you."

"It would be easiest for me to be alone tonight, thank you."

"All right. I understand." But then suddenly he forced himself forward to kiss her.

Searlait had little time to react. Now, she had never taken a self-defense class, but there was one art she had long ago perfected of her own volition. The ease with which she could quickly grab the taser from her purse and use it against an assailant.

She was suspended from the agency for three weeks.

* * * * *

((to be continued.. haha, I think Searlait has the most suspensions of any agent at FDS haha..))