Cinnamon sighed as she contemplated getting up from the couch where she had been working on a needlepoint project for the baby’s room. Getting up from the couch should be easy to do, always had been, but these days it was different. She was seven months pregnant and everything was starting to feel like a chore. She put the needlepoint aside and pushed herself from the couch with a grunt.
“Not very glamorous these days, are you, Cinnamon?” she said aloud to herself.
She walked to her bedroom and looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her over-sized closet. Good thing this was Friday and not one of the days her maid, Maria, was with her, as she was not in the mood for someone to argue with her about how she looked. She was not glowing, she looked fat and she knew it.
Cinnamon turned from side to side in the mirror, pulling her maternity dress tight around her stomach, which seemed to her to be growing exponentially every week. She spun herself around and made a mental note: correction, everything was growing.
Cinnamon Carter, high-fashion cover girl, had to admit to herself that she wouldn’t be making any magazine covers looking like this. She had always enjoyed being slim with little or no effort on her part. Gaining twenty-five pounds in the past five months was devastating to her, even if she knew it was a necessary part of having a baby and would most likely come back off again for her with little or no effort, or so she hoped.
Everyone these days, most especially Rollin, seemed to go on and on about how great she looked pregnant: “healthy” and “radiant” they said. She hated to disagree with them, but she was feeling rather insecure lately.
She had always been very confident about her looks; her face and body had made her very successful in both her careers. In modeling, it made her a great deal of money. In the spy business, it kept her opponents either interested or distracted as the role called for, and allowed she and her partners to get on with the mission at hand. Now she just felt swollen and unattractive.
Poor Rollin, though, she thought. She had given him such a hard time the previous evening when he had been called by Jim Phelps for an assignment and left with an hour’s notice, and he hadn’t deserved it. He really was trying to be supportive about every aspect of the pregnancy: he had been spending a great deal of time at her apartment, versus his own; he went to as many doctor’s appointments as he could; and he even rubbed her back and feet when needed. He also seemed to still be attracted to her sexually, but this was Rollin Hand she was talking about.
She wondered where he was right now and what he was doing. She had begun to hate it when he was away on assignment without her. Not only because she was terribly worried about him and what danger he might be in, but she was also admittedly jealous of the fact that he was still active in the business she loved so well and she was not.
She paused at the patio door and looked out on the city, reflecting on the events of the previous evening.
“Cinnamon, come on, you know I have to leave…. don’t do this to me now”, Rollin pleaded.
The call from Jim had come right as they were cleaning up from dinner and had planned to go through the information they had gathered on prospective houses for Cinnamon and the baby.
“Go, go…I’ll be fine. Don’t give it a second thought.”
She started to walk from the bedroom where he was packing back into the living room. Rollin tried to be patient, as he knew she was not thinking rationally, hormones taking the best of her, but she was not being fair to him.
“Cinnamon,” he said firmly, but gently taking her arm as she tried to leave the room. “You know I have to go. You would do the same thing if our roles were reversed and you know it.”
“Yes, well, fortunately for you, they aren't, and you get to run off to your adventure leaving me here.”
“That’s not fair, you make it sound like I’m going off to the south of France for a holiday. You know that’s not what it’s like.”
His tone was revealing his frustration with the situation. He took a deep breath and continued.
“Are you saying you want me to say ‘no’ to Jim? Tell him, ‘sorry, I’m busy, find somebody else tonight’?”
Cinnamon looked away from him, knowing in her mind he was right but her heart, and right how her pregnant body, were telling her that was exactly what she wanted him to do.
“Rollin, it’s not fair, but I don’t want you to go…I know it’s not a holiday and that’s what scares me…” her voice trailing off. She was determined not to cry but lately she wasn’t in total control of her emotions.
“Cin,” he softened and turned her to face him and continued, “you know I’m careful, we all are. I’m going to come back to you,” he put his hand on her stomach and continued, “both of you.”
“Please…” she started then the tears came. He pulled her to him as best as he could with the baby between them and spoke softly to her, comforting her, for a few brief minutes then was out the door, feeling torn and guilty.
As she replayed the scene last night in her mind, she felt badly for having sent him off in that manner, knowing he did not need to be distracted from the mission by worries of her. She had not slept well last night and could now only wait for his signal in a few days that he was on safe ground and on his way home to her.
As she turned back towards the closet mirror she had one other fleeting thought that she quickly pushed away: she was becoming aware that she was jealous of not only where he was, but who he might be with.
Cinnamon spent the rest of the weekend trying to keep her thoughts away from Rollin’s absence and speculating on what he might be doing and with whom, but it was not easy.
Friday was spent organizing the information she had on various homes they had viewed and made lists of pros and cons on each, which she would go over with a realtor.
She occupied most of her time Saturday looking over the financial plan her accountant had put together for her. He had outlined a plan taking into consideration solely profits from her modeling agency and investment strategies now that she would not have income from either modeling or the government for quiet a few months.
By Sunday, having done everything she could think of to occupy her thoughts, Cinnamon was restless. She found she began thinking up various scenarios Rollin could be in and most of them put him in the arms of Tracey, her “replacement” on the team.
Cinnamon had worked with Tracey on one mission about a year earlier and had found her a competent agent but Cinnamon still had her reservations. Tracey was about twenty-six and physically in contrast to Cinnamon with dark hair and eyes, and thus, Jim had chosen her for that particular assignment.
She was not unintelligent, but had lighthearted attitude that Cinnamon found a distraction on the mission. Tracey had spent most of the trip flirting with all four of the men on the team.
At the time, Rollin had passed it off as nervousness and immaturity, but Cinnamon stressed that is was neither professional nor was it safe. He teased her as being jealous and tried to point out to her that they weren’t necessarily following the rules either with their relationship, but she knew they both understood the seriousness of the assignment and would never do anything to jeopardize the other team members.
With that thought, Cinnamon had a twinge of guilt. Their actions had impacted the team, their friends, and she had many regrets about that. Not regrets about the baby she was carrying, but about how they had let down Jim, Barney and Willy. They had been a team, a good team, and now they were looking for someone to fill her role.
She fleetingly remembered many of the times the five of them had together…both good and bad, and missed their camaraderie terribly. She hated to admit it, but she was jealous of Tracey. Taking her place on the team and being put in close quarters with Rollin.
Monday afternoon, when she had not heard from Rollin, she was still not overly concerned about his safety but she was curious as to how long he would be away. While it was rare that a mission could be "timed" prior to going in, Jim usually did a pretty good job of predicting how long they would be away and Rollin had indicated, and packed for, only a weekend.
Still, four days was nothing to get alarmed about. She knew often connections were missed and "safe houses" were used to lay low until conditions were safer for travel. There were occasionally debriefings that required layover in Virginia or elsewhere before the mission could be deemed complete. With all these things in the back of her mind, Cinnamon kept herself busy and tried not to dwell on Rollin's whereabouts or activities.
By Wednesday morning, however, she was more than mildly concerned. She knew if something had happened to Rollin, while it was not protocol, Jim or some member of the team would get in contact with her. She also knew in the back of her mind that she could contact Dan Briggs.
Calling Dan, however, was a last resort. She would not want to take advantage of her relationship with her former boss, who was now in a high-level administrative position within the Company, unless she was certain something was terribly wrong.
About eleven a.m. Wednesday, she jumped as the phone rang.
"Finally", she thought, assuming it was Rollin, calling to let her know he was safe and on his way back to Los Angeles.
"Hello," she answered.
"Cinnamon?" the female voice on the other end asked timidly, "it's Paula, I hope I'm not bothering you."
"Paula, hi, no, I'm actually just working on some needlepoint for the baby's room. What's up?” but as soon as she said it, she was sure she knew the answer.
There was hesitation on the other end of the line and then, "I'm sorry to call and I know you can't tell me anything, but Barney's on a 'trip' and I haven't heard from him..."
Cinnamon's training immediately kicked in and she stepped in to quickly cut her off.
"Paula, we can't talk about this over the phone."
"I know, I'm sorry, I'm just so worried...” she answered, her voice breaking with the last word.
"Paula," Cinnamon's mind raced for the right thing to say that would not convey her own worry, "it's ok, why don't we have lunch, might do us both some good and we can talk. How about if I pick up some salads and bring them over? What can I bring for Grant?"
With some relief in her voice, Paula responded, "That would be great, don't worry about anything for the baby though, he's cutting teeth and I actually can't get him to eat much of anything. If we're lucky, he'll go down for a nap here in an hour or so."
Cinnamon promised to pick up lunch and be to the Collier house within the hour, although she regretted not being eager to see her friend today. She was, herself, becoming increasingly concerned about not only Rollin's whereabouts but also that of the team. She knew she could neither express this worry to Paula nor provide the information about Barney's clandestine career that his wife was seeking.
The two women made small talk as they ate and played with the baby, who did not seem to realize it was time for his nap.
"Well, I won't try to tell you how super you look, cause I know you won't believe me. At seven months, I felt like I should call up Sea World and see if they needed a new exhibit."
Cinnamon laughed aloud at her friend's confession. "Well, thank you, but you're right about finding it hard to take complements seriously. I must say I've been avoiding the agency the last few weeks, being around all those models is a little hard on the self-esteem."
"Well, now you know how the rest of us feel all the time when you're in the room," Paula returned jovially as she joined her friend in laughter. "How's Rollin doing with all this? Have you guys worked through everything?"
"We’re taking things one day at a time right now. Honestly, I know I've been pretty hard to live with lately but he's been surprisingly supportive, emotionally and physically."
"Yeah, Barney was the same way with the physical thing, the worse I felt and looked, the more he wanted to have sex."
Both women laughed at the shared "problem" then Paula got quiet.
"Cinnamon, is Rollin gone too?"
"Yes."
"Do you know if they're ok? Have you heard anything? Barney usually tells me if he thinks he'll be gone more than a few days. He didn't act like this would be anything more than the weekend...."
"Paula, no, I haven't heard anything, but please don't worry just yet. These things are often hard to plan for..."
Cinnamon was doing her best not to let on the danger that was always involved if a situation warranted the IMF's services. Although she was certain Barney would not have broken any confidences by revealing classified information to his wife, she was not sure what at all Paula knew about his "trips" as she had called them.
"Paula, how much has Barney told you?"
Paula hesitated, obviously not wanting to incriminate her husband.
"Not too much. Just that he, you all, work for the government and that it's pretty top secret…you know, just enough for my imagination to run wild with all the terrible things that could have happened to him.”Cinnamon had to smile at this.
"I can't lie to you Paula, it can be dangerous, but we're..." she stopped to correct herself, "they're very good at what they do, and very careful."
"You seem so calm. Don't you worry about Rollin, especially now?"
"Yes, I have to say it was easier for me to be with him, and in the middle of things, than sit home and wait for him, especially now," and she looked down at her stomach. "But, I have to remember that what they're doing is very important and that they all want to come home safely too."
"Well, that makes me feel better I guess. You should know if there's reason to be worried or not."
On her drive home, Cinnamon felt guilty in misleading Paula. She was worried, very worried, but just could not let it show to her friend with a small child. She pushed thoughts of her own unborn child not ever knowing its father to the back of her mind. She so wished she could have a second chance at their last conversation and another chance to tell him she loved him.
The phone call she had been anticipating finally came around two in the morning on Friday, one week after they had left for the mission. The conversation was kept to a minimum, as usual, but Cinnamon could hear in Rollin's voice that he was tired and irritated. All he told her was that he was in Atlanta and would see her in the morning. While she had a hundred questions, all she really needed to know right then was that he was safe.
A little more than five hours later, Cinnamon awoke from her light sleep at the sound of the apartment door closing. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and sat up in bed in time to see Rollin slowly open the bedroom door.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he returned quietly and leaned in to kiss her gently, “sorry to wake you up.”
“That’s ok,” she responded and reached for the bedside lamp.
In the faint light, she saw he looked the part of the weary traveler. His clothes were wrinkled and he sported what she guessed to be a three-day-old beard.
“You look tired, Sweetheart.”
He simply sighed in response and sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his shoes and socks.
Cinnamon reached up to rub his shoulder and neck.
“Would you like some breakfast?”
“No.” he responded and turned to face her. “All I want right now is a hot shower, a shave, and to crawl in bed with you and sleep for about a day.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile and caressed his cheek, “Too bad, I sort of liked the beard.”
He smiled tiredly back and moved to the bathroom for his shower.
About twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom wearing a towel. His hair was clean and combed but he had not shaved.
Cinnamon, who had waited for him with the light on, smiled and reached to turn it off as he removed the towel and climbed into bed with her.
“Decided to keep the beard I see.”
“Just for you, but not sure how long I can tolerate it.”
Rollin reached for her under the covers and pulled her close to him and placed his hand on her stomach.
“I missed you two.”
“We missed you too,” she replied, wrapping her arms around him and nestling her head under his chin.
She hesitated, and then continued, talking into his shoulder, “Is everybody ok?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it right now, ok?”
“Ok,” Cinnamon desperately wanted to tell him all the things she’d been thinking over the past week and continued, “Rollin, I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish lately….I love you…”
He reached to take her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to meet his. “Shhh, I know, everything’s going to be ok and I love you too,” and he kissed her gently to silence her, “let’s go to sleep.”
She acquiesced and allowed herself to relax in his arms where she slept for another two hours before waking and slipping from the bed, leaving him to sleep until late afternoon.
When Rollin awoke, he stretched and reached across the bed in search of Cinnamon, only to find her gone. Oddly enough, he thought he smelled food cooking which reminded him he had not eaten since the previous continent and went in search of a robe and the source of the smell.
Padding out of the bedroom and into the living room, he found Cinnamon in her kitchen, cooking, a rarity to say the least.
“Wow,” he said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her expanded middle, “how lucky can I get…I have the most beautiful woman in the world barefoot, pregnant and cooking me dinner.”
“Ha ha, very funny. How do you know I’m not trying to poison you?” and she waved him away with the spoon she was holding.
“Well, I guess that remains to be seen….”, he responded playfully. Her cooking skills were limited at most but he very much appreciated the effort she was making for him.
After they ate, Rollin stretched out on the couch and turned on the television while Cinnamon cleaned up then joined him on the couch, putting his feet in her lap.
“You feel better now?”
“Yes, thank you. Dinner was wonderful.”
“Well, ‘wonderful’ might be a stretch but you’re welcome.” She began rubbing his feet as she continued in a serious tone, “What happened, Rollin?”
He exhaled before beginning, knowing he could not give her too much detail, but needing to vent, “Everything was going fine, we were in and out and had the information we needed by Monday morning.”
“And?”
“And Tracey decided to get greedy. She thought she had an opportunity to get more information, even though Jim said we were done, and she approached a contact she decided was friendly, but he was not.”
“Oh, Rollin. Was she in any danger?”
“Yes, she put herself in danger and Barney too. Jim had already gone on to make our drop at the Embassy so Willy and I had to improvise, quickly. We got them out but it could have been very bad.”
Cinnamon reached for his hand as he continued.
“When we finally met up with Jim across the border, he was furious, to say the least, but, instead of taking it out on Tracey, he decides to take it out on me and second guess everything I did to save her ass.”
At this, he pulled his legs from her lap and got up from the couch and began pacing as he relayed his arguments with Jim.
Cinnamon tried her best to avoid an argument but interjected, “Rollin, there was a time when you would have done the same thing Tracey did, if you thought you had any chance at all.”
He came back at her heatedly, “But I wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize the whole mission or the team, there’s a big difference. Maybe you’re right, she’s not ready and she’s definitely not you. I don’t know what Jim’s problem is but I’m not going to take the heat, or risk my life, because of her inexperience.”
He then finished his ranting with a statement that Cinnamon had been dreading over the last few months: “Maybe it’s just time I got out.”
Cinnamon chose her next words carefully, “Rollin, you don’t really mean that, do you?”
Their situation had forced her to take a leave of absence and she missed it terribly. She could not imagine voluntarily leaving the IMF but knew she and Rollin were two very different people, and in it for very different reasons.
He sat on the chair opposite her and reached for his cigarettes and lighter. After lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag, he responded. “I don’t know, maybe I do…it’s just not the same anymore.”
Cinnamon felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t the same anymore because their relationship had resulted in the child she was carrying and her taking a leave of absence upset the fine balance they had within the team. She knew part of the reason Rollin found it so exciting in the past was their passion, for the work and each other. Without her there, he was losing interest and the IMF would again suffer a casualty.
Betsy Nicholas
March 2001