Need to Know by Karen Cleveland Read Free Book Online

straight ahead, and I listen to them put on jackets, round up mitts and a ball, walk outside. I wait until the door shuts behind them, then I get up, shift Caleb to my hip, and walk over to the sink. I watch them out the window. Father and son, tossing a baseball back and forth in our backyard, dusk settling around them. A perfect snapshot of America. Only one of the two isn’t American.
    And then it dawns on me, hits me with such force I grip the edge of the sink to steady myself. This isn’t just betrayal. This isn’t something that’s going to be solved by a fight or a conversation or anything like that. It’s not solvable, period. I need to turn him in. He’s a Russian spy, and I need to turn him in. The anger seems to melt away, morph into a river of despair.
    My gaze drifts to my phone, sitting on the counter. The one that holds an endless chain of texts with Matt, countless pictures of our family, our life together. I should be picking it up. I should be calling Agency security right now. The FBI. Omar.
    I look back outside. He’s smiling at Luke as he winds an arm back, slowly, and lets the ball fly. So relaxed, so comfortable. And it’s wrong, all of this is wrong, because sleepers run. They try to get on planes back home before the authorities can stop them.
    But Matt’s not running. He’s not going anywhere.
    Caleb yawns, and I shift him in my arms so he can lay his head against my chest. He snuggles down and lets out a little sigh.
    I continue to watch Matt through the window. I see him show Luke how to keep legs loose and bouncy, bring the arm back just so. He looks completely normal.
    He finally casts a glance back at the house, at the kitchen window, right at me, like he knew I’d be there. I meet his gaze and hold it until he turns away, back toward the game. Then I look at the cellphone again. He knows I’m in here, alone, with the phone. A sleeper wouldn’t let that happen. A sleeper would protect himself. All the more proof this is Matt. My husband, the man I love. Someone who’d never run.
    We’ll talk about all this
. His words ring in my head. That’s what I need, isn’t it? I need to hear what he has to say. And then I have to turn him in.
    I turn away from the phone. I can’t pick it up. Not now. Not until I’ve talked to him.
    And he knows that, doesn’t he?
    The thought comes unbidden and lodges itself in my mind. He knows me. He knows me better than anyone. What if he’s not running because he knows I wouldn’t pick up the phone right now, wouldn’t turn him in?
    I feel numb. This can’t be happening.
    I shake my head and walk out of the room, away from the window, away from the phone. I step into the family room. Ella’s curled up on the couch with a coloring book, crayons splayed on the cushions. I set Caleb down on the floor, next to his toys, and sink down onto the couch beside her. I feel her forehead, warmer now. She brushes my hand away and I wrap my arms around her.
    “Stop, Mom.” She half-heartedly pushes me away, then stops and acquiesces, crayon poised in midair.
    I kiss the top of her head, the hair that smells like baby shampoo. Her words from earlier are echoing in my head.
Where’s Daddy?
And then another phrase, one she never uttered but that I can imagine her saying nonetheless.
Why did Daddy go away?
    Caleb’s entertaining himself on the floor, banging the lid of his shape sorter against the base, a steady rhythm. Chase has crawled over and is gnawing on one of his stacking cups. They’re too young to even remember this, aren’t they? The normalcy of our lives now. I watch Ella scribble, the thick crayons clasped tight in her fist, a look of fierce concentration on her face, and tears sting my eyelids. God, how I wish I could protect all of them from this.
    I hear the back door open, Matt’s and Luke’s voices midconversation, something about Little League. Matt’s going to coach this year.
Was
going to coach. I stand before the tears well any