Archive of Our Own

St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls.  Late spring, l977.

           She had hoped to catch him alone.  There was some time before the  meet began and Mother Agnes, the school’s principal, expected Allyson to be waiting in the locker rooms with the other swimmers.

          But the girl was still with her father, reluctant as always to leave him.  The nun paused a few yards behind the rows of chairs that had been set up near the outdoor pool, tucked her hands into the sleeves of her habit and waited patiently.

          “Do you have everything?” Solo was saying as he lit a cigarette.

          Allyson nodded.  “Yeah, and you promised me you were going to quit smoking.”

          “So, I’m a weak man.  Earplugs?”

          The girl held out her fist, and displayed them.

          “Okay.  You’d better get going.”

          “Kiss for luck,” Allyson said.  It sounded more like an order than a request.  Solo bent down and kissed her.

          “Give ‘em hell, kid,” he said and swatted her rump as she ran off.

          Mother Agnes smiled to herself.  She enjoyed watching them together.  Not many of the parents showed up regularly for Saturday visits as Solo did.  Even for today’s event, most of the chairs were vacant.  She thought back to her own childhood, as privileged and lonely as those of her students, and wished her father had been half so solicitous.

          “She’s quite attached to you, Mr. Solo,” the nun observed as she came up beside him.  Solo sighed and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

          “Yes, I know, but I am trying to encourage her to be more independent.”

          “Oh, I meant no criticism.  May I?”  She indicated one of the empty chairs and Solo said, “Please.”  The nun sat beside him and went on.

          “Actually, it’s heartening to see a parent and child so close, particularly a step-parent.”

          Solo looked over toward the quiet pool, crossed his legs and asked, “Is there something you want to tell me, Sister?”

          Mother Agnes folded her hands in her lap and studied them for a moment.  She rather liked Allyson’s father.  Mr. Solo was as polished as a new penny and as comfortably smooth as an old one, with an ingratiating, self-conscious vanity that was almost feminine.  A man of great personal charm, he knew how to use it to maximum advantage.  Women were invariably drawn to him and even Mother Agnes herself was not immune.  Still, she was aware, from watching him at parent-faculty gatherings, that he could turn that twinkle in his eye on and off like a light bulb.

          It wasn’t all flash and artifice, though.  His devotion to Allyson was certainly genuine and there were things about him that were serious, even unsettling.  The carefully measured speech, as if he were weighing the import and implications of each word.  The economy of movement.  The tension and alertness that was always there, even in repose.  He always seemed ready, but ready for what?

          I’m being romantic again, the nun chided herself and got on with it.  “Mr. Solo, Allyson hasn’t been sleeping very well lately.”

          “Bad dreams, again?”

          “In part, but she’s also been anxious, distracted.  She’s too good a student to let it interfere with her schoolwork, but I’m concerned nonetheless.”

          “I’ll talk to her.”

          The nun frowned.  “That may not be sufficient,” she said slowly and paused for effect.  “Mr. Solo, Father McCutcheon let me understand something about your, um, profession.  Would it be a breach of security if you told me how Allyson’s mother died?  Allyson says it was some sort of automobile accident.”

          Behind the cigarette, Solo shot her a knowing glance.  There’s that twinkle again, she thought.

          “If you understand something about my so-called profession, Sister, you’ve probably guessed by now that the death of my wife was no accident.  Erika was murdered.”

          He was right.  Mother Agnes had suspected as much but still, it was a shock to hear it stated so baldly.  “Oh, I’m so very sorry.”

          Solo shrugged.  The cigarette was only half done but he stubbed it out and flung the rest of it away.  “Happened all the time in what you refer to as my profession.  You’ll note the past tense.  I’m retired now.”

          “I’m pleased to hear that, because Allyson is worried about you.”

          “Me?”

          “Yes, Mr. Solo.  She hasn’t told me in so many words, but I believe she’s afraid that you’re going to die.”

          Solo rubbed his cheek thoughtfully as he considered her statement. “Makes sense, I guess.  The kid has lost both of her parents.”

          “And now she is terribly afraid that she will lose you.  Is that a possibility?”

          Solo brushed some ashes off the sleeve of his immaculately cut sports jacket.  “If you mean dying from something other than an illness, an accident, or an act of God, Sister, I can tell you that it’s possible, but not probable. As the years go by, the odds go down. They’ll forget about me; about us.”

          He was silent for a moment.  Now she understood.  “So that’s why you sent her here, to protect her.”

          “And because I thought she needed what I couldn’t give her  — stability.  A good education.  Children her own age.  I care for her very much.”

          “Yes, I can see that.  Which makes me wonder why you continue to pretend to be her stepfather when she is really your daughter.”

          Her bluntness caught him off-guard.  He started to deny it and then the stunned expression on his face melted back into an easy smile.

          “Is it that obvious?” he asked softly.

          “No, actually, it’s not very obvious at all.  But if one looks long and hard and knows what to look for...”

          “Do you think Allyson sees it too?”

          “I doubt it.  Children tend to accept what they’re told at face value.”

          He appeared to be relieved and because he seemed willing to talk, Mother Agnes pressed on.  “Is Allyson illegitimate?”

          “No.  Before she was born, Erika married another man by the name of Sorensen, the man Allyson thinks is her father.  I didn’t know about the baby at the time.  And to be frank, I don’t believe it would have mattered much if I did.”

          “Yet here you are...”

          “Yeah, well, Sorensen was killed in the line of duty.  As I said earlier, it happened all the time.  I began working with Erika again and one thing led to another, and we ended up married.  It was a good marriage, too, if you can call anything that ends in death, good.”

          He stared off in the direction of the pool again and Mother Agnes thought: He’s still in love with her.  Or at least, the idea of her.

          “They shot her three Christmases ago,” he added absently.

          “But you were the one that they wanted, weren’t you, Mr. Solo?”

          Solo turned back to her and said in exasperation, “Sister, if you ever decide to give up the veil, I’m sure you can make a very good living in espionage.”

          The nun laughed.  “I’m sorry.  Forgive me for prying, but I need to understand the situation in order to help your daughter.  You haven’t told her any of this?”

          Solo shook his head.  “Not yet, and I’d be deeply grateful if you kept it to yourself.  I don’t want to confuse or frighten her.  She’s still too fragile.  We both are.”

          A few more sets of parents had filled the chairs around them and were applauding now as the swimmers began to file out.  “Maybe I shouldn’t visit so often,” Solo said, gesturing discreetly to his daughter who grinned back.

          “Oh no, Mr. Solo.  Allyson looks forward to your visits,” Mother Agnes assured him.  She shifted her own attention to the pool.  Miss Ferguson, the new gym teacher, was also smiling in their direction.

          “We all do,” she added without a hint of sarcasm.