Making Amends
by Kathy Whelton
(c) 1999 (print), 2000 (web)


Amanda Cohen allowed the pen to slip from her fingers and onto
the desktop below. Tentatively, her hand wavered in the air
before settling once again on the framed photograph of her
parents. She had to stop this. She would never finish up and get
home at this rate. And she needed to get home. The last few days
had been a horror for them all, and, beneath his sympathetic
mien, she suspected that her husband really truly had not
understood at all. The world had gone mad, and still, she had
been unable to let go of her responsibilities. Even when the army
had made it quite clear that her presence was neither needed or
wanted, she had stayed home only long enough for a shower and a
quick hug before heading back to the precinct. Amanda Cohen was
never one to lightly dismiss her obligations--that was just not
the way her parents had raised her.

Her parents. She dusted her fingertips lightly over the surface
of the picture frame. The thought that she might never see them
again had weighed as heavily upon her as anything during the
asteroid scare.  Julia, her daughter, had been a toddler when
she had seen them last. Somehow, the days had turned into weeks,
the weeks to months and the months to years.  How had she let
that happen? How had they let the bitterness between them grow to
the point where neither one of them could simply pick up the
phone and call the other?

A loud rap at the door pulled her attention away from the photo.
"Come in," she said sharply, hastily setting the picture back
to its customary position. It wouldn't do to be seen lingering
over the photo. It could be construed as weakness--and weakness
was one thing a woman in her position could ill afford to
display.

"Excuse me, Captain." Nick Knight stepped easily through the
office door, a neatly typed report in hand. "I hope I'm not
disturbing you."

She felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders at the
sight of the blond detective. Nick could be volatile, troublesome
even, at times, but he was still the best detective she had on
the squad. He had proven that yet again with this whole
asteroid business. 

Joe Stonetree had once intimated to her that there was something
'different' about Knight. What that something was, he couldn't
quite put a name to, but Stonetree's instincts were unerring--at
least when it came to people. And what he had hinted at that
night had made the hair on the back of her neck stand at
attention. She had watched Knight closely after that, but if
there was something unusual about Detective Nicholas B. Knight,
she had yet to discover what that something was.

Regardless of Joe Stonetree and his instincts, she had come to
know and respect Nick Knight, not only for the high quality of
work he produced, but for his dogged determination to follow a
case to its conclusion--no matter what the consequences. That
sort of dedication was hard to find these days.

"You're not disturbing me, Detective." Amanda Cohen eased against
the back of her seat. "I thought everyone went home after the
party."

"Not quite everyone," Nick responded. "I thought the brass might
be pressuring you for this." Nick dropped the report on the
Captain's desk and sat down in one of the office's two chairs.

Cohen reached forward and lifted the report to eye level. "The
report on Dr. Carter's death." Of course. Nick wasn't one to
leave a job half done. Cohen shifted her gaze towards Nick. "Now
that you mention it, I did receive an interesting phone call from
Commissioner Vetter about an hour ago. He was commending me for
pursuing the Carter investigation in spite of all the pressure to
close it. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that,
Detective, now would you?"

Nick managed a wry smile. Vetter had called him first,
ostensibly to congratulate him, but apparently looking for a way
to shift some of the responsibility for the chaos in the city on
to Captain Cohen's shoulders as well. Definitely not a man he
would want watching his back. "I distinctly recall your
instructions to remain on the case for two more days, Captain.
I'm sure that's what led to the break in the case."

"Humph. Well, that's not the way I remember it," Cohen returned.
Richard Vetter was a political opportunist of the worst sort. A
man who used the hard working men and women of the police force
for his own personal gain. It would figure he'd try to use
something like this to get his name in the press. "But thanks
anyway, Knight. I appreciate it."

"You did a fine job, Captain, and under very difficult
circumstances. We're the ones who should be thanking you."

"I won't hold my breath, if that's all right with you. But you
do deserve the credit on this one, Nick. You had it pegged
right from the start. I just wish a few more people had shared
your optimism. Just look at all this." Cohen gestured at the
stack of papers lining her desk. "Fifty dead in Metro Toronto
alone--and that's not counting the suicides who have yet
to clear the ME's office. If I had my way, I'd charge Dr. Ellis
and her husband with every last one of them."

Nick shifted uneasily in his seat. At least a percentage of those
deaths had been caused by the Community. Desperate people
committing desperate acts. "But that's not going to happen, is
it, Captain?"

Cohen sighed. "I'm afraid not. It looks like the worst charge the
Crown has been able to manage so far is conspiracy to defraud.
Not much considering the damage that's been done." Her eyes slid
back to the photograph of her parents. Undoubtedly, they had
met the news of the asteroid with the same calm determination
with which they had met all the other challenges in their lives.

"Are they close by?"

Amanda Cohen looked up to see her star detective watching her
intently. "Pardon me?"

"I couldn't help but notice," Nick stated, indicating the photo.
"Your parents?" 

Cohen nodded slightly, lifting the photo from her desk once
again. "And, no, I'm afraid they live quite a distance from
here. They retired to Hawaii about eight years ago."

One of the few places on this earth he'd yet to visit. "I've
heard that it's beautiful there."

"That it is," Cohen said quietly, no longer speaking only to the
man seated across from her. "And a well-deserved reward, too.
They've had more than their share of troubles, I'm afraid." Not
the least of which was their strong-willed daughter. Was it an
honest desire to do police work that made her push so hard to get
on the force, or did it have more to do with her rebellion
against parental control? There was a time when the mere mention
of the word 'unladylike' could send her into a frenzy. Now she
found herself in the unenviable position of saying it to her own
daughter.

"I'm sure the distance makes visiting difficult," Nick observed.
He had yet to see the Captain take a single vacation day in the
year he'd been under her command. He was willing to bet that the
trips to Hawaii had been few and far between.

"There are things more difficult than distance." She paused. How
had that managed to slip out? She believed very strongly in
keeping her work life separate from her private life. It was
essential, in her estimation, if she were to keep the respect
that she needed to do her job. Maybe this whole asteroid business
had affected her more than she had realized. There was nothing
that shook up your priorities like coming face-to-face with your
own mortality.

Ironically, it wasn't her marriage to Jeffrey Cohen that had
driven them apart. Her parents had been hesitant, that much was
true. They made little effort to conceal their concerns about
her marrying outside of her own race and religion. There were
moments when she had come close to breaking off all contact with
the two of them. Eventually, though, Jeff had won them over
with his energy and his very obvious love for her.

The break had come later, after Julia was born. Initially, having
her mother care for the baby seemed an ideal solution when it
came time for her to go back to work. Had her mother really been
trying to undermine her parenting decisions, or did it only seem
that way to an overtired, overstressed new mother--desperate to
prove she could do it all?

And why had she bristled when she discovered her mother
introducing traditional Japanese culture to Julia? She had found
a great deal of comfort in the traditions as she grew older. Was
she afraid of minimizing her daughter's Jewish heritage, as she
claimed at the time, or was she simply unwilling to be bested in
*anything* by her mother?

The day she signed Julia up for full-time day care at the bright,
modern center down the street from her was the beginning of the
end of their relationship. Her parents were moving to Hawaii and
that was that. No amount of pleading from her could get her
father to change his mind. She had hurt her mother terribly, and
now there was no going back.

"I've found that most difficulties aren't quite as insurmountable
as they seem," Nick said quietly. "Sometimes, you just have to be
willing to pay the price."

Cohen abruptly placed the picture frame back down on the desk.
"You make it sound so simple." Her relationship with her parents
was anything but simple. She had begged them to stay, or at least
not to leave with such hard feelings between them. They had made
the choice to go. *They* had made the decision to deprive her
daughter of her grandparents. How many times in the last eight
years had she picked up the phone, only to put it down again?
What if they still wanted nothing to do with her?

"It's never simple," he responded sadly. Nick glanced down at
his hands. He was in no position to comment on the state of
anyone else's affairs. It never ceased to amaze him, though, how
often mortals behaved as if they had eternity at their disposal--
realizing the truth only when there was no time left for anything
but regret. "It's just all so...impermanent. The road not
taken--or something like that."

"Waxing philosophical tonight, are we, Knight?" Perhaps he wasn't
as impervious to the asteroid scare as she had thought. "I guess
you're entitled, after everything that's happened."

"No, not really." Nick stood and began heading for the door. A
weary smile touched the corner of his lips. "I guess I'm just
feeling my age."

"I think you need a few more gray hairs before you can make that
claim." She started to laugh, but something in his eye caught at
her and the sound died in her throat. A chill rose at the back of
her neck. Somehow, she knew he wasn't joking--and she had no
desire to know anything more.

Nick paused at the office door and looked back. "Make the call,
Captain. Take my word for it, the worst kind of regret is for
things left undone."

Cohen nodded. Too bad it had taken something like the asteroid to
make her realize what she was missing. "Good night, Detective.
Get some sleep."

"Good night, Captain. And good luck." Nick stepped through the
opening, pulling the door closed behind him.

Her hands shook as she punched in the numbers. It was amazing,
really. It was one of the few numbers she knew by heart, although
she'd had little occasion to use it over the years. A lump rose
in her throat as she heard the phone ring. What if she was too
late? What if...?

"Hello?"

The voice hadn't changed a bit. It was the same voice that sang
her to sleep every night in the second grade when the other
girls had teased her mercilessly. "Mama..."


The End