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Chapter 5
She put away the remains of their meal, seething all the while. By the time she had the room set
to rights, she was livid. Swiftly she changed into casual clothes and went after him, ready to give him a taste of her mind.
She used her override to get into his room without knocking – since she didn’t think he would voluntarily speak to her – but found his room empty. Her heart sank when she realized that even his toiletries were gone. Damn him! He wasn’t getting away that easily!
As she hurried down the corridor, she almost ran into her cousin. “Out of the way, Eddie!” she said.
“Wait!” he said. “I just came to find you. Your mom’s here.”
“What?”
He met her horrified gaze, and swallowed hard as he nodded. “Just docked. Wants to see you.”
“Hell, no! Damn it, Uncle Ed must have sent her! Thinking I’ve gotten myself into trouble up here.”
“Have you?” he asked diffidently, and was seared with her dark glare for his pains.
“No, I have not!” she said between her teeth. “And that’s what you’re going to tell her.”
“What?”
She headed on down the hallway, turning back to say, “Say whatever you want. Just keep her away from me for the next half hour. Got it?”
And with that, she was gone – leaving Major Carlin standing alone in the corridor, knowing that he would have to face Aunt Jo by himself. Oh, man. Family or no family, Aunt Jo had no qualms about shooting the messenger of bad news. He headed for Dock 2, feeling as if he was going to his execution.
***
Sheila ran for Dock 7, pulling out her radio and calling up traffic control. “Connie, it’s Sheila.”
“Hey, girl!” the lovely operative said in welcome. “What can I do ya?”
“I need to know if the Terrellian ship has left port yet. Dock 7.”
“Nope. Requested clearance, though. Problem there?”
“Yeah,” Sheila said between her teeth. “Don’t give him clearance to leave, okay?”
“Sure. No problem. Need back-up?”
Sheila rounded the corner and headed for the dock. “No, thanks. I got it. I owe you one.” She stuck the radio back into her pocket and ran up the ramp into the ship. Once there, she leaned over, her hands on her knees while she got her breath back. Then she flipped her hair back over her shoulder and went to beard the lion in his den.
***
She found him at the pilot’s seat, setting his controls. She struck a pose against the doorjamb, arms crossed, hip cocked, and said, “Going somewhere?”
He looked over in surprise . . . then sighed heavily as he sat back. “Planning to,” he said flatly.
She raised a brow at him. “In a bit of a hurry, aren’t you? Not running scared or anything like that, are you?”
He shook his head, but it was such a weary gesture that she couldn’t tell if he was denying her accusation or merely tired of the need to run. “It’s time to go.” His dark eyes met hers for a moment, then he added, “Past time.”
“Because I asked you to come and meet my family? Not even my family, but my friends who are like my family? Where’s the harm in that? How could that make a grown man cut and run?”
His lips compressed at the insult, but he kept himself from a hasty retort. “I have enjoyed my stay here. You have made this time bearable for me. And much more. I wish that I could offer you more than my thanks, but I cannot. I have nothing to give you.”
“It’s not like I’m asking for marriage,” she said waspishly.
He ran a hand over his face. “I wish it were possible to marry you. But I cannot stay. And where I am going, you cannot follow.”
She sauntered closer, more certain than ever that she had to get to the bottom of this now. If she let him out of her sight, she knew she’d never see him again. “Then don’t make me follow you. Let me go with you.”
“No!” His look of horror lessened after a moment, and he said with a weary sigh, “You do not know what you ask. Please. I must go.”
“Do you have to go now?” she asked around the lump in her throat. “Or can you stay a while longer? If I promise not to ask you to any family get-togethers or anything like that?”
Chucho sighed. “It wouldn’t matter. In the end, I would still have to go. Perhaps it is better for me to go now, before I beg you to let me stay with you.”
She reached out and ran a shaky hand down his long hair. “Would that be so bad?”
He met her eyes, a look of such regret in his that she almost cried out. “I would not burden you with that. Please let me go.”
She blinked back her tears and nodded. “Yes. Okay. You can go, Chucho. I won’t force you to stay. Will you tell me where you’re going? So I can think of you there, enjoying yourself and having a good time?”
He looked out the front window at the stars, wishing he could keep such a wonderful woman by his side always. How he wished he had met her years ago, when his whole life lay open before him! Oh, the adventures they could have enjoyed together! It seemed so cruel of fate to bring her across his path now, when they had so little time together. But he well knew how cruel fate could be, so he didn’t bother to rail against it. Instead he said quietly, “I need to do something before I go. Something on Earth I must see. But I do not know my way around on your planet. If I take you with me, if I let you help me find what I need to find there, will you afterward let me go in peace?”
“Yes,” she said, her heart giving a great bound at this unexpected reprieve.
“Without questions?”
She frowned, meeting his eyes. “I’ll . . . try not to ask any questions. But I can’t promise, Chucho. My job may require me to ask.”
He gave a short nod. “Very well. I will agree to those terms. Are you free to leave now? Or must you report to duty?”
She thought of her mother waiting for her in the port and said hastily, “No, I’m good. I can leave now. Tomorrow is my day off anyway. If we’re gone for more than a day, I may need to call in and extend my leave though.”
“A day will be more than enough time,” he said, and gestured for her to take the copilot’s seat as he finished prepping the ship for take-off. She watched him in silent admiration for a time, until he turned to her and said, “Will you tell them that I am free to leave now? Or was there something else you wanted done first?”
She grinned sheepishly . . . and got on her radio to tell Connie in traffic control.
***
True to her word, she asked no questions about where they were going. He was a capable pilot and flew his ship with the ease of long practice, so instead she relaxed in her seat and talked to him about her own pilot’s training. He chuckled over her escapades, acknowledging that she truly knew how to get into trouble. Then she teased him until he told her his own adventures with flying. She marveled that he had seen so much and visited so many worlds. But he spoke of it all with a shrug, as if it were no great deal. And she supposed to him it hadn’t been. If a man had no home, then nowhere to him would really matter.
They landed just west of a forested area in the early morning. She knew from the time frame that they must be in the Western Hemisphere, and from the cool breeze that they must be somewhere in the north, probably near a large body of water. As he closed up his ship, which mercifully had a sort of cloaking device that rendered it invisible to any stray observers, he brought his small hand tracker with him. They set out for the coordinates on the tracker in silence, his mood turning somber now that they were on solid ground. But she was pleased that he took her hand and held it as they walked.
She was incredibly curious about what he was here to see. The area they had landed in was scarcely inhabited, with scattered houses to be seen here and there as they came down. But once on the ground, they headed into the woods, where there were no houses at all. She wondered what he’d be looking for here?
Eventually they came out into a meadow full of wildflowers, mostly daisies, and something tickled the back of her mind. She’d seen this place before. Somewhere.
He scarcely noted the flowers, following the tracker closely as it led them through the field and near another set of trees. These were more widely spaced, and there was actually a small fence with a gate that they went through into the shade. Sheila gasped when she saw the tombstones, memories flooding back in with a rush. She and her cousins running through the daisies to get to the cemetery. Climbing over the fence rather than using the gate. Running inquisitive hands over the cold surfaces of the tombstones; reading the words, the names, the dates.
They were in Boston. At the Straker family cemetery. The house would be just over the hill to the east. She looked at her companion, unsure which of the million questions that tumbled through her mind to ask first. Then she remembered that she had promised to ask none of them. Well, shit.
Chucho’s face seemed harsher in the dim shade of the trees. Drawn. Almost like a stranger’s. He dropped her hand as he focused on the coordinates, winding his way around the trees and the tombstones to get where he wanted to go. She wanted to grab his arm, ask him to stop and turn back. She was suddenly terrified that he might become someone totally different once he’d found what he sought. As if she might not know him anymore.
“Chucho!” she whispered, and he stopped.
But he hadn’t noticed her. He lowered the tracker and looked at the grave in front of him. Just stared at it for a long time, saying nothing. She watched the tears track down his cheeks, but didn’t know why or what she could say to make it better. What did this grave mean to him? How could it mean anything to him?
Then a voice spoke from nearby.
“I wondered,” it said meditatively.
And they both turned to see who stood there. Sheila blinked in surprise at the sight of her favorite uncle. His face wasn’t wearing its normal smile, the one she was used to seeing whenever she visited him. He looked almost stern, his eyes piercing as they took in the man who stood at the grave.
Chucho stared at him in return, then looked swiftly at Sheila as if to ask a question.
“No,” Straker said in that same measured tone. “She didn’t tell me you were coming. Well, actually she did. But she wasn’t aware of it. You see, we email each other on a daily basis. And just yesterday, she sent me an email with your full name. Chucho Podvodnik. An interesting surname, wouldn’t you say? My wife has spent the past twenty-odd years teaching me Tuataran. It’s an intriguing language with many beautiful-sounding words. One of which is ‘podvodnik’.”
“What does it mean?” Sheila asked when it became obvious that Chucho wasn’t going to comment.
His smile was rather grim when he answered. “It means ‘one who wears a mask.’ Which made me wonder why any Tuataran would come here in disguise. They have nothing to fear from us. We consider them allies, even though we’ve never signed a treaty. So tell me, Chucho, why you come wearing a mask?”
“Is this true?” he asked, completely disregarding Straker’s question. Chucho pointed a shaking hand to the tombstone and said, “Is what you wrote here the truth?”
“Of course, it is,” Straker said.
The captain shook his head. “He was not your son. He never bore your name. He could not be a junior to your senior, because he was not your son!”
Sheila was bewildered by his ferocity and concerned by the way he stood shaking, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. She almost said something to him, but her uncle spoke first.
“He was my son, because I wanted him to be. And since I was told that he wanted it as well, I saw no reason to deny either of us the pleasure.”
Chucho’s breath began to hitch and his trembling worsened, but he did not take his eyes off the older man. “He’s a monster! And the son of a monster! That’s all he is! That’s all he ever was!”
Straker stepped up to him and laid his hands on his arms. “Eddie,” he said softly, his blue eyes looking directly into those haunted brown ones. “You’re Sheila’s son. How could you ever be a monster?”
With a great cry, Chucho buried his face against her uncle’s chest, sobbing incoherently. Straker closed his arms around him and held him, murmuring words of comfort to him.
Sheila stood nearby, her eyes wet with tears, realizing who it was that she had brought here. She looked at the tombstone, at the words that were carved there: Edward Straker, Jr. Born 1977. Died 1982. Beloved Son. Only he hadn’t. He hadn’t died. Somehow he stood here after all these years – alive. Eddie. The Straker sibling they’d always talked about late at night at sleepovers when they were supposed to be sleeping. The one who they all considered a hero, because he’d died fighting against the bad guys. The one they all wanted to be like when they grew up.
It was almost too much to take in.
Eventually Chucho quieted, lifting his head and gazing at the man he had dreamed about all his life. “Father?” he asked hesitantly.
And Straker smiled mistily. “Welcome home, son. We’ve missed you.”
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Reevaluation (Read 2419 times)
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