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Chapter 52 - A Startling Proposal

Little Haiti, Miami, Florida: four months earlier

The Alexandres had returned to Miami in January to close out their affairs there and pack up to move; Nadine would give the VA a month’s notice and Wilson would give the county his two-week notice. They quickly found out that Werner did indeed “know” people. During their second week back, a commercial developer from a national firm with a Miami office called Wilson with a proposal. The developer, a friend of one of Werner’s business associates, had done some preliminary work on reviewing the Alexandres’ property and the neighborhood area. Three of the four properties which had “land-locked” the Alexandres’ lot were potentially available to be purchased. One was in tax arrears; a second was unoccupied and owned by a real estate investment trust, a REIT—the property was being held on speculation; and the owner of the third property was habitually late in paying the mortgage. The fourth site was the smallest and was located at the back of the Alexandres’ property. The developer had already secured options to purchase two of the properties and was working on the other owners.

The developer had a proposal for Wilson. He thought that if his company could acquire the other two parcels, with the area’s zoning, he could build a multi-unit dwelling on the combined sites. Since many properties in the surrounding six-block area were being flipped—many older homes were being demolished and larger homes built in their place—he felt that the market would support building luxury units. So he told Wilson that he would be making generous offers on the second two properties and Wilson’s lot, located in the center of the five parcels, would have a significant increase in value. As Nadine had told Tamara, the neighborhood was becoming gentrified and the developer affirmed that fact.

Before they left Miami, the Alexandres packed the essential items from their home and shipped them to their Maryland apartment. They packed up the temple contents as well; for the last step, they arranged to have movers pack up the rest, transport it to Maryland, and put it in storage until they found a permanent home.

Nadine and Wilson returned to Maryland at the end of January and set up housekeeping in a furnished apartment which Werner’s people had found for them. They had previously shipped their cars so they would have their use as soon as they arrived in Maryland. During January, Nadine had flown to D.C. and presented a seminar based on her doctoral dissertation to the Westphalia anthropology faculty and they had voted to confirm Nadine’s appointment to the department. She now had a joint appointment in the university and in the Columbia Institute of Economics. Then, at the beginning of February, Nadine began her new job.

She had been very concerned about how well she could handle this new job of hers and she wondered how she’d fit into the academic life after being away from it for such a long time. She did enjoy her time as a graduate student at the Universidad de San Juan; she had done very well in her classes and her teaching assignments and her work on her research project had given her immense pleasure. Still, that time was more than twenty years ago.

Westphalia University, Westphalia, Maryland: mid-February

One week after starting her job, Nadine was only just beginning to feel settled in her sparsely decorated office. She was reading one of the anthropology texts the department used in its classes and had several scholarly journals stacked on her desk with Post-It notes sticking out from the pages of several of them. That’s how Greta found Nadine when she visited her office and tapped on the door; Nadine invited her in.

“Nadine, I see you’re busy reading our materials, but I had a thought about helping you in a more active way; I’ve sensed that you’re still uncertain about your abilities,” she told her.

“I hope it’s a good thought; I’m trying to get caught up... it’s been years,” Nadine said, waving her hand at the stack of journals.

“You have all the basics, my friend. I thought of a way to get your confidence way up—that’s to get you in front of some students right away. Normally we don’t ask a new person to jump in and start teaching immediately, but you’ve got a solid knowledge of the principles and from my conversations with you, I doubt you’ve forgotten very much. My idea is for you to take on a section of our junior anthro seminar class. We’ve got a sudden opening; the scheduled instructor was one of our grad students but last week she had to take off the rest of the term for a family emergency. I have a sub in the class this week and was going to shuffle some people around to get it covered, but then I thought of offering you this class.

“This seminar class involves the students reading a selection of current research papers and reviewing the research topic covered and the important works that those papers cite. During each meeting, students present the work in their assigned paper to the rest of the section and then everyone discusses their presentation. You would moderate the presentation and discussion and point out the basic teaching principles that get mentioned. Of course, you’d read the papers too and be able to guide the group, asking leading questions as needed.

“You’d get right into the current research, starting out this way, and leading the class will use your knowledge and communication skills too. The syllabus is already set and the kids all have their assignments, so all you’d need to do is to keep a week ahead of the class. And you’d quickly pick up the modern research in the field. Sound like a plan?”

Nadine smiled and nodded. “I think it’s a perfect plan. This will be a great way to get my feet wet; now tell me the details.”

Greta went over the class with her and showed her the syllabus on the department’s web site. After they finished and as Greta was leaving Nadine’s office, she stopped to ask her a question.

“I meant to ask: any news on your Miami house sale?”

“Actually, yes,” Nadine replied, smiling. “We’ve gotten a really good offer from the developer now. Our lawyer in Miami is checking it out and we’ll get his advice in a few days.”

“Excellent. That’s good news, Nadine.”

Nadine began leading the junior seminar class and was very pleased to find out that she seemed to fit right in; all of her prior experience came flooding back and leading the class was interesting as well. Then, in early April, she was delighted when she received a formal letter from the Universidad de San Juan notifying her that her master’s degree was being corrected to a doctorate since she had indeed met all of the academic requirements; they apologized for the error.

Applied Physics Laboratory, North Laurel, Maryland: mid-February

Wilson began looking into his own employment options soon after they got settled in their Maryland apartment. There were possible openings at the Naval Academy and also at Westphalia. But those jobs were basic auto mechanic jobs and Wilson wasn’t very excited by that work; there would be no challenge. He was much more interested when he heard from Scott that the APL facilities manager wanted to speak to him about his skills and experience.

Scott, who was the head and chief engineer of the mechanical engineering department, had earlier pitched the idea that the Facilities Department would benefit by having an all-around mechanic on its staff, someone who would be able to work on all of the lab’s mechanical systems, those operated by the facility and those used by the research projects, including the devices specially built for those projects. Scott pointed out to Gary Chambers, the Facilities Department manager, that none of the techs in the mechanical engineering department had the broad range of skills that Wilson possessed and the engineers’ skills didn’t even come close.

While Scott was with him, Chambers contacted Wilson’s reference, Miami-Dade County’s director of maintenance, who told him, “That guy has magic hands. There was nothing that he couldn’t fix. Saved us bundles by keeping our fleet going. He even worked on our aircraft, a chopper—you know, the aviation techs need an FAA license, but one time our chopper had a problem in its transmission that no one could diagnose. Wilson heard of the problem and had it located in an hour. Of course, without the licence, he couldn’t actually work on the chopper, but he guided a tech to the problem and told him how to fix it. When they asked him about how he knew about helicopter transmissions, he was modest; he told them that when he was in the Marines, he paid really close attention to the ‘birds,’ he called them, and how they were maintained at his base. His men’s lives depended on them working, he told me. So he knew his way around a chopper. We’re sad to lose him but he’s way too good for a county fleet repair shop.”

After Chambers disconnected, he looked at Scott.

“Sounds like this guy walks on water. Is he really that good?” Chambers asked.

“I have no detailed info other than my conversations with him; I told you before what I found out about him. Say, you know that university student of Emma’s? Tamara, the one who invented that energy-storage device and now has the medical section in an uproar about her new MRI improvement?”

“Sure. Who hasn’t heard about that?”

“Well, this guy’s her dad,” Scott told him. “Smarts must run in the family. She’s an electronics genius and looks like he’s a mechanical one. So you interested? Should I have him come in to talk to you?”

“Damn. I’d be stupid not to get someone like that on the staff, I guess. Yeah, set it up with my gal.”

Later that evening, Scott called Wilson and told him about coming in for an interview and then mentioned the call to Wilson’s former manager. He told Wilson about what his manager said about him.

“So that’s what we heard from your county facilities director,” Scott said. “They really like you back there,” he laughed. “So when can you come in to talk to Chambers?”

“Anytime he wants,” Wilson answered. “What kind of job am I interviewing for, anyway?”

“That’s what we want to work out. Since you know about so many systems, I’d expect that you’d have a very broad responsibility for anything mechanical. No birds or watercraft, though; we don’t own any.”

They both laughed at that.

At his interview, when Chambers learned that Wilson had dealt extensively with Helene Tarmson of DARPA over the development rights to Tamara’s inventions, he was amazed. When he learned that Wilson was also a Medal of Honor recipient, he was floored. But most of all, Chambers was impressed with Wilson and the skills he possessed. Within a few days, the lab made him their formal job offer.

One Month Later

In the middle of March, Wilson was notified by the Medal of Honor Society that the next ceremony had just been scheduled; it would be in the White House in mid-April. He was invited to attend and that wearing the dress uniform of his service was customary. And then he received a phone call from Robert O’Rourke of the Defense Department. O’Rourke told Wilson about the ceremony and urged him to come.

“Now that you’re living in the area, it would be good to have you come,” O’Rourke told him.

“Okay, sir, I’ll respond yes to the invite.”

Wilson returned the response form, saying that he’d be there. Fortunately, his dress uniform, the one he had worn at his own Medal ceremony, wasn’t with the items packed in storage; he had it hanging in his closet—but he needed to be sure it still fit.

Wilson had been instructed to drive to either the Washington Navy Yard or Joint Base Andrews and park there; from there he would be picked up by a Defense Department limo to be brought to the White House. Andrews was closer, so he chose that site. There were five other Medal recipients there when he arrived, so a round of introductions ensued. Two more men arrived and then the limo pulled in. It was a stretched limo so they had plenty of room, which was good because Wilson felt a bit stifled in his dress uniform. He learned that he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one. He did enjoy talking with the others; they shared a strong bond of similar combat experiences, which felt much different from Wilson’s interactions with other veterans.

The White House, Washington, D.C.: mid-April

When they entered the White House after being dropped off at the North Portico, a White House aide met the group and led them to the East Room but on the way, Wilson was intercepted by a staff member.

“You must be Sergeant Alexandre; am I correct?” she asked.

“That’s affirmative...” Wilson shrugged mentally; old memories were returning and he had fallen into a military mindset.

“Thank you. The president would like a word with you before the award ceremony. Please follow me,” she responded.

“Ma’am, you do know that I’m not today’s recipient?” Wilson asked, confused.

“I do know and I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Mr Gerston learned that your own award presentation was not exactly public and wants to correct that situation.”

They had reached the Oval Office now and the Marine at the door saluted Wilson and opened the door. Wilson returned the salute and whispered, “Oorah,” as he passed and the Marine smiled and nodded slightly.

The president was seated in an armchair and in a chair across from him was Robert O’Rourke. Both men rose as Wilson approached and the aide went to a chair by the wall and took a recorder out of a table drawer nearby. Gerston saluted Wilson and he returned the salute.

“Sergeant Alexandre, such a pleasure to get to meet you,” Gerston said. “You do remember Bob O’Rourke, I’m sure?”

Wilson shook the president’s hand and then O’Rourke’s.

“I certainly do, sir. We first met, by phone, eight years ago, and he tried to recruit me for the CIA then,” Wilson joked and they laughed. “Sir, you wanted to speak to me about my ‘private’ award ceremony, but you really don’t have to make any special note of me today. After all, today’s event should be all about the new recipient.”

Gerston smiled at O’Rourke. “You did say he was modest.” Then he looked at Wilson. “I won’t be minimizing today’s Medal of Honor award to Lieutenant Jennings, Sergeant Alexandre... may I call you ‘Wilson’? I assure you that’s not from disrespect; I’ve studied your biography and feel that I know you very well.”

“Sir, I would be honored to have you use my given name, Doctor Gerston.”

“Ha, ha, ha...” Gerston roared. “Touché. I’d venture to say that few people know that I have a doctorate; I don’t conceal my education though. I’m fine with just being a ‘mister.’”

“Certainly, sir,” Wilson grinned.

“Excellent; let’s be seated. Wilson, I hear you’re a direct sort of person. Very up-front but with a good sense of humor. Now Bob here has filled me in on some things you’ve done after receiving your Medal of Honor and truthfully, I must say you’ve continued to serve your country admirably even after you left active duty.”

“Everything I did was a response to the danger my family was in, sir. We were looking for a quiet life.”

“To be sure. But it was how you reacted that was noteworthy. For example, you were able to get an alert to the FBI about foreign infiltrators in our government and your alert came just days after we got a similar warning from a high-school student, an incredible person in his own right. His information, followed by yours, exposed the infiltrators. I awarded him the Medal of Freedom and would have recognized you then as well, except your role in the exposure of the plot got buried in the incredible morass we faced in digging the Executive Branch out of the mess the plot caused. I only heard of your role in it when I started to look into your background.”

“My background, sir? Whatever for?”

“Coming to that; just hold the questions. Then there was a personal attack on your wife by a foreign national who was in the country illegally, using a stolen passport. Not only did you, and she, stop him, but the information you extracted from him—using Marine techniques, I’m sure—led to the exposure of a whole political and criminal conspiracy, moles in our government, and illegal foreign operations. Plus enabling the FBI to solve dozens of murders.

“And then, to top it off, you effectively removed the political problem at its source. I’m certain that, whatever that autopsy showed, somehow you eliminated that Haitian witch who was the source of much of the instability of the Haitian government. My FBI and CIA sources are convinced that she didn’t have a ‘natural’ death.

“Finally, I learned that you’re not the only extraordinary person in the Alexandre family. Your daughter has provided the Defense Department with some inventions of hers which are allowing us to make some major breakthroughs in defense research. And your spouse isn’t just a priestess; she’s an anthropologist who has done some significant sociological research, which was unfortunately buried by her university, but now has been discovered, and I recently learned that she’s now part of the institute that I’ll be leading when my presidential term is completed.

“Now I can come to my point; I can see I’m making you uncomfortable...”

“Absolutely, sir. Many of the things you mentioned happened by pure chance...”

“Ah, you have said it just right. As Louis Pasteur is quoted, ‘Chance favors the prepared mind.’ How you react to chance occurrences is an indication of your true instincts. And I need people with your instincts working for our nation. Your friend in the State Department, Evan Masters, tells me that he thinks you would be a perfect choice to serve as our special envoy to go to Europe and unsnag the talks between us, the U.K., and the European Union. I need someone there who can cut through the BS and all of my reports about you say that you’re the person who can do it.

“And concerning your wife Nadine, the Columbia Institute needs someone with her credentials and background to do a kind of pilot study for us. A project based on her doctoral research. We would appoint her as a special envoy to Haiti. Her chairperson, Dr Greta Winsberg, knows about this matter and is probably telling her about this appointment as we speak. I see that I’ve succeeded in rendering you speechless. Can you accept this assignment for your nation, the one which you’ve served so admirably all your life?”

Wilson gulped and nodded. “I’m sure that I’m unworthy, President Gerston, but I’ll do my best.”

O’Rourke was silent up to now, but he spoke. “Mr Gerston agrees with me that your position might have some more authority if we reactivated your Marine service. You’d be on detached duty from the Marine Corps commandant’s office, assigned to the office of the Secretary of State as an ambassador without portfolio and you’d effectively function as a special assistant to the president. General Connelley’s office will contact you before you leave for the U.K.”

Wilson could only nod, gulp, and say, “Yes, sir.”

Gerston stood up and the others rose. “Thank you, Wilson; I’m sure that your instincts will guide you well. Your Marine training told you to leave the technical details to the experts; your expertise as a leader was to guide the experts to do their thing in the best way possible. Just remember your roots and your instincts will serve you. I need to meet with Lieutenant Jennings now; I’ll see you later in the East Room.”

They shook hands and then O’Rourke led Wilson back toward the East Room. As they passed an aide escorting an elderly man in Army dress blues walking with a slight limp toward the Oval Office, Wilson stopped and snapped off a sharp salute to the startled man.

“Lt Jennings?” Wilson asked and the man nodded vacantly. “Congratulations, sir, on your honor. The president is waiting and you’ll enjoy talking to him. You’ll do great.”

Jennings smiled faintly and they exchanged salutes.

The award ceremony proceeded just as Wilson had remembered his had gone, except that there were many more people here now, including eleven prior Medal of Honor recipients. He was seated with them, all the way over on the right side of the room and, with the crowd present, he wasn’t able to clearly see the other two seating sections. After the president completed the award presentation ceremony with Jennings and everyone was seated again, Gerston returned to the podium.

“I just wanted to say a few words now about another of our nation’s heros, one who didn’t get the full recognition he deserved because of an extremely delicate and critical political situation which existed at the time. Our government needed to limit access to his award ceremony and although I can’t change the past, I’d like to take this opportunity to try to rectify what was a necessary situation back then. So I’ll take this opportunity now to officially recognize another of this nation’s heroes. I ask Marine Staff Sergeant Wilson J. Alexandre to join me on the platform.”

Damn, Wilson thought, he’s gonna do it anyway.

When Wilson reached the podium, Gerston stepped toward him as Wilson saluted; Gerston returned the salute and reached out his hand for a warm handshake.

“Sgt Alexandre and I had a long talk back in the Oval Office just before and I got to know him personally. Eight years ago, he was a recipient of the Medal of Honor for a number of extraordinary acts of courage in battle, repeatedly exposing himself to enemy fire to personally assist his wounded Marines to a safe position to receive medical aid. His gallantry and leadership also allowed his unit to fulfill their mission, succeeding against overwhelming enemy forces. For that bravery, Sgt Alexandre received the Medal of Honor and I’d like to offer our nation’s thanks for his gallantry and service.”

Gerston turned to Wilson and saluted him and Wilson returned the salute while the audience rose and applauded. Wilson looked out over the people who were standing there applauding and suddenly he saw Nadine! And Tamara. And all of the Winsberg clan too. They had kept it all a secret. But the applause had died down and Gerston was speaking again.

“Sgt Alexandre’s service to this nation didn’t end when he left active duty, however. Part of the reason for his private honor ceremony had to do with national and international law enforcement activities and political problems involving an ally of our nation. As a result of Sgt Alexandre’s skills and acute intuition, our law enforcement agencies were able to detect infiltrators in official positions, both those of our own government and an allied government. The information he was able to provide also allowed the FBI to solve many open crimes. I’d like the other members of the Alexandre family, Dr Nadine Alexandre and Miss Tamara Alexandre, to join me up here now for my own acknowledgment, as president, for this extraordinary civil service to our nation.”

He waited as Nadine and Tamara came up to the platform. Nadine looked confused while Tamara wore a tiny smile. Wilson wondered yet again if his daughter could read minds.

When the three were on the platform, Gerston continued, “I would like to officially recognize these extraordinary civil contributions to our country, the ones which I just mentioned, now. Staff Sergeant Wilson J. Alexandre, for especially meritorious contributions to the security and national interests of the United States of America over a sustained period of years, as president of this great nation, it gives me extreme pleasure to award the Presidential Medal of Freedom to you. Please join me in congratulating Sgt Alexandre for his service to our nation, both military and civilian.”

Everyone rose and applauded loudly while an aide brought the medal on its ribbon to Gerston, who fastened it around Wilson’s neck.

“I’m not done...” Gerston said with a smile. “I’m enjoying this; it’s a great part of my job.”

Everyone laughed.

“Sgt Alexandre wasn’t alone in his efforts to help our government and our law-enforcement officials. Wherever he was involved in his activities that gave officials invaluable intelligence about those criminals, his spouse and daughter were always close by and paid a vital role in Sgt Alexandre’s ability to notify the authorities. Dr Nadine Alexandre’s role in capturing the perpetrators was just as important as her spouse’s. Her actions also deserve the nation’s thanks; therefore, for especially meritorious contributions to the security and national interests of the United States of America over a sustained period of years, as president of this great nation, it gives me extreme pleasure to award the Presidential Medal of Freedom to Dr Nadine Alexandre. Please join me in congratulating Dr Alexandre for her service to the people of the United States of America.”

Again the assembled group rose and applauded while Gerston placed the medal around her neck.

Gerston smiled at Tamara. “There’s yet more,” he winked at her. To the audience, “You might expect that I’m going to repeat what I just said, but you’d be wrong.”

Laughter.

“It’s true that Miss Tamara N. Alexandre was likely involved with solving those crimes or bringing those people to justice along with her parents; she might even have had a greater role than our officials can determine. But Miss Alexandre has made her own impact on our nation, in fact, on the world. Her inventions are revolutionizing energy storage. Her work in the medical field is revolutionizing medicine’s diagnostic abilities. And she has done remarkable work in areas which are even now assisting in our country’s defense research. She has already received one of the world’s leading engineering awards, the Charles Stark Draper Prize, the engineering profession’s equivalent of the Nobel Prize. Therefore, for her extraordinary service for the security and national interests of the United States of America, and for making a significant contribution to engineering and science, as president of this great nation, it gives me extreme pleasure to award the Presidential Medal of Freedom to Miss Tamara Nadine Alexandre. Please join me in congratulating Miss Alexandre for her service in national security, science, and engineering to the people of the United States of America.”

Once again everyone rose and applauded while Gerston placed the medal around her neck.

After a few concluding remarks, Gerston invited the family members and guests of the awardees, plus the prior Medal recipients, to a reception in the Blue Room.

On the way there, Wilson and his family were walking with Gerston.

“You certainly put one over on me, sir,” Wilson smiled.

“I was told you liked a good joke,” Gerston laughed. “And I appreciate your thoughtfulness with Lt Jennings. Your comments to him really helped settle his nerves. He’s had a very rough time with his own demons.”

Tamara was listening and she whispered to Nadine, “I could tell that poor man is lost in his own emotions. It’s kinda like what I did to Mr Evil. I’m sure I can help him.”

“But be careful, sweetie.”

When they got to the Blue Room, Tamara noticed where Jennings was standing with a woman about his age. Must be his wife, she mused. Good, that helps. She hunted around for another Medal recipient in an Army uniform and found a sergeant. She approached him and introduced herself and thanked him for his heroism.

“Oh, miss, no need,” he said. “It sounds like you’re pretty awesome, yourself. I’m Randall Carter, Desert Storm.”

“Sergeant Carter, can you help me talk to Lt Jennings? You can see that his memories of Vietnam are still plaguing him.”

“Yeah, I see it in his eyes. But how can I help? I’m not trained...”

“I just need your strength,” she said to him. “I see strength and confidence inside you and I can help you share it.”

“Well, okay. For a fellow Medal person, sure.”

Tamara led him over to where Jennings was standing. “Lieutenant?” she asked. “I want to congratulate you on your honor and tell you how happy I am that your heroism was finally rewarded.”

The woman with him looked over at Tamara with an expression of profound sadness but gratitude for her comment. Meanwhile, Tamara was gently “pushing” a silvery-green taste to Jennings as she drew Carter closer.

“Lieutenant, this is Sgt Randall Carter; why don’t you shake hands.”

As they did, Tamara added her own hand and looked deeply into Jennings’ eyes as she “pushed” more silver and used her physical connection to amplify her power from Carter. Meanwhile, she was softly speaking to Jennings about some of the actions the Army colonel had mentioned as he read Jennings’ citation, whispering to him that those things were in the past and those threats were gone. Then she told him what her father had said: The decisions you made were the best possible ones you could have made; they allowed you to save the rest of your troops; isn’t that so?

She drew a bit more power from Carter and “pushed” some additional green and silver.

Then in a normal voice, she asked Carter, “Sergeant, can you tell us a bit about your own bravery? Please drop any modesty and tell the lieutenant how you can cope with your memories of that action.”

Tamara noticed that the remote look in Jennings’ eyes was almost gone and he was looking at Carter now.

As Carter began to speak, Tamara took her hand away from those of the two men and tried to ‘push’ an activating green-silver taste to the woman, a taste that Tamara had found that would jog a person’s limbic system to increase an ability to project empathy to others and become more sensitive to others’ emotional signals, but was startled to get absolutely no response.

What? It’s like a solid wall, she thought. Then she had an insight. Maybe it’s a sex-based thing and I need a male’s mind for support. Let’s try that.

Tamara whispered to the woman, “Take his hand with mine and I’ll show you something my mom showed me. She’s a priestess of an ancient religion and knows about healing souls.”

The woman looked at her, startled, but took Jennings’ hand and Tamara joined hers. Tamara had figured out with Peter how to activate his limbic system; it took a tiny bit of a color that wasn’t a color and it appeared to jump-start the activation of the neural patches in the cortex. She “pushed” a bit of that not-color to the woman and then using her physical connection to the two of them, she drew a tiny amount of the silvery-green taste from the woman.

She turned to Tamara, startled. “What just happened? All that odd light that seemed to flash?”

“You felt that? Good. You did that yourself. Remember the thought that came along with the light. Can you make yourself do it again?”

The woman knitted her brows and Tamara tasted the result. “Great, you did it,” she said. “Mom’s soothing sense works in you. And look, Mr Jennings’ talking to the sergeant almost normally now, isn’t he?”

“Ohmygod, I can’t believe it, what did you do? Oh, I’m Shelley Jennings, and you’re... um...”

“Tamara. Right. I did nothing; I just showed you something that’s been in Mom’s family forever, a healing emotion. You had it inside you but didn’t know how to use it; I just showed you. You can use it to help your man when he gets those spells of depression and detachment. That’s what it is, right?”

“Oh my god, the president was so right about you... about your family,” she gushed.

“No, please don’t think of us that way,” Tamara said. “Listen, any really good, sensitive clergy person could have arrived at the same idea. Minds help each other heal; they just need to know how to connect. That’s all I showed you.”

“Showed her what?” Jennings asked as Carter looked on, bemused.

“She showed me how to help when you ‘go away,’” Shelley told him.

“I think that hearing the sergeant’s story helped too,” Tamara said. “Isn’t that right?”

Jennings nodded vigorously. “It sure did. Say, Randy, want to grab some grub?”

Carter looked at Tamara with an expression of confusion and she winked at him as he went off with Jennings. Shelley pulled her into a hug.

“Tamara, whatever you did there, I can’t thank you enough. You gave me my man back.”

“I’m glad you could do it. It was all you. All it takes is love, a faith in yourself, and an additional faith in whatever deity you believe in, Shelley. I just showed you how to think those healing thoughts.”

Before she left Shelley Jennings, Tamara “pushed” a tiny bit of light-green taste with streaks of ochre at her; this was the emotion that Tamara had learned that would confuse a person’s memory of the most recent events. Tamara theorized that this particular taste/scent interfered with the amygdala’s processing of episodic memory—events, while preserving semantic memory—factual knowledge and performance ability. Thus Shelley wouldn’t recall exactly what Tamara had done but she’d still recall how to use her new healing sense.

And that’s when it hit her—the president awarded me the Medal of Freedom! To my parents as well. I could tell that he had planned something special for Dad, but he put one over on me, too. Oooh... a chameleon, that’s it. Gerston has some abilities too, besides his very strong charisma. I gotta find a way to spend time with him to see how that works.

She went off to look for her folks. And Peter.

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