by C. Gockel
“I always feel like that girl in the picture is following me around. Like a specter. But here, I’m the specter. When people look at me, it feels like she’s what they see, not who I am now, not what I’ve become.”
A specter was a ghost, according to the nanites. “That bothers you?”
“Kind of.” She sighed. “Helfron said that where one comes from isn’t as important as where one finishes.”
“He’s an ass, but he’s right.”
“Here—I don’t feel—” She frowned. “It feels like where I’ve been isn’t real. I feel more like I was, as if the past is trying to take back the ground it lost.”
“If that wasn’t real, I wouldn’t be here,” he felt bound to point out. All these feelings, it was like trying to navigate an asteroid belt. She didn’t think this hard before she shot him.
He realized she was looking at him. And probably reading his mind. Her smile flickered on her lips and her eyes opened up again, letting him in. He leaned forward and kissed her.
When he stopped, she asked, “You’re never going to let me forget I shot you, are you?”
He thought for a minute. “Probably not.”
She grinned. “Punk.”
But the grin faded too quickly.
“What is it you’re afraid of, Sara? I’m a guy. I don’t have a clue.” Carey had told him to say this when he was stumped. Girls like guys who admit they don’t know things.
She grinned again, but it didn’t last either. Her gaze turned back to the house.
“I’m not sure.” She sighed. “But let’s go find out.”
He was happy to get out of her little car. It was not meant for legs like his. Or his body. Probably not right for anyone’s body, except maybe the movie ET. These craft were a strange way to get around. If his people had used wheeled transport, it was before his memory.
He stood by the car, waiting for the feeling to return and looking around.
These houses were very different from the houses on Iona. Their houses had been made of stone and mineral, and low to the ground. This row of houses was actually lifted off the ground. Something about flooding, according to Sara.
The swamps of this place, that they’d driven past on their journey, would have been at home on Kikk. Lots of dense foliage and a Louisiana version of a biter, if Sara was to be believed. He liked these trees better, though. They stood tall and their roots gripped the ground, like they meant to stay.
As Sara stared at the house, the front door opened and a dark skinned woman came out onto the wooden porch. It was weird to know what it was without actually knowing what it was. She was tall, almost as tall as Sara and strong looking, but attractive, with big, dark, closed eyes. If she was the happy bride, she didn’t look too happy. Her arms crossed over her ample chest.
“I didn’t think you were coming.”
A pause.
“Wasn’t sure we would.”
A guy came out the door behind her, a big smile cutting his face.
“Shawn?”
LaShaunda half turned toward him, but didn’t speak.
“I’m Sara and you must be Kente.”
Fyn didn’t think he’d heard Sara sound quite like this before.
Kente looked past her and met Fyn’s gaze, one brow lifted.
“This is Fyn.”
Not too informative. Why didn’t she want them to know he was her mate?
Kente eased past LaShaunda and they shook hands, his brows rising in a question Fyn couldn’t answer either. He shrugged.
“Why are we all standing out here? Come on in.” Kente took LaShaunda’s hand and pulled her around with him, then almost pushed her through the door. He held it for them, then followed them inside.
The inside was cool and dim. Fyn looked around. It was a room with lots of history. Pictures everywhere. Worn, but comfortable furniture. It didn’t surprise him that Sara stopped by the piano, her hand brushing along the closed top.
She looked over her shoulder at LaShaunda. “Do you still play?”
LaShaunda’s chin lifted. “Yes.”
Sara’s lips tightened. She took a breath, her gaze sweeping the room now. She looked almost amused when her gaze made it back to LaShaunda.
Fyn looked at the pictures again. Sara wasn’t in any of them. That didn’t seem like what he’d heard of Evie. He looked at Kente again. He shrugged and rolled his eyes. The air between the two women was thick with tension.
“Why don’t we all sit down?”
Neither woman moved.
“Why did you invite me, if you didn’t want me here?”
Sara didn’t sound upset, just coolly curious.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Shawn.” Kente gave her a look.
“Why did you come?”
Sara shrugged. “For your mom. For Evie.”
LaShaunda flinched.
Why did that make her mad? Fyn was way out of his depth. Kente looked like he was, too.
“Tell her, Shawn,” Kente said. Shawn didn’t speak. “She wanted someone here who remembered her mom.”
Sara’s eyes widened, then she nodded. “I can understand that.”
“Can you?” Shawn sneered.
“Yeah. My mom is dead, too.”
“Whatever.”
Fyn saw the color come into Sara’s face, saw the narrowing of her eyes.
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you try to be grateful you got eighteen years with Evie, instead of being pissed over the three years you had to share with me?”
Shawn glared at her.
“What is your problem? You didn’t like me before I moved in. What did I ever do to you?”
Their gazes clashed like crossed energy beams. Fyn was surprised there were no sparks.
Shawn crossed her arms and shrugged, her gaze sweeping over Sara with pointed dislike.
Sara shook her head. “This was obviously a mistake. Kente, it was nice to meet you. I hope you’ll be…happy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shawn stepped in front of Sara.
Fyn could feel the change and see it in Sara. Her warrior came back online.
“You want to finish what we started in the girls’ bathroom, Shawn? Because I’m ready this time.”
LaShaunda’s hands clenched into fists, but she didn’t move.
Fyn stepped in front of Sara. Kente did the same for LaShaunda.
“Do you really want to beat her up before she gets married?”
Sara started to grin.
“Oh, like she could.”
That girl seemed to want an ass kicking.
Sara frowned and he could see pissed fade into thoughtful. She leaned around Fyn. She opened and closed her mouth twice, as if she needed to be careful what she said, before she finally spoke.
“You know, the only person who isn’t over that is you, Shawn.”
Shawn jerked away from Kente, showing them all her back.
“Did you ever listen to anything your mom used to say? Cause she’s in my head all the time, giving me advice. Hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Shawn’s shoulders hunched once. Kente looked confused. Fyn probably did, too.
Sara looked at Fyn as she went on, “She told me once that getting stuff out didn’t always make things better. Best way to get over things is to just forgive the other person. Or yourself.”
Shawn turned around now, but her expression was beyond his ability to read.
“I know your mom. She’s not worrying about it, other than to hope you’ll just get over it. That’s probably why she pushed us to get along. She knew when you did, you’d have forgiven yourself.” Sara paused. “Your mama was a wise woman. Listen to her.”
“We—”
Sara cut her off. “Don’t. Don’t do this. We were fourteen. Young and stupid. We got in a fight. That’s all I remember. And that it changed the course of my life. I don’t want to look back or turn over any rocks. I have a great life thanks to your mama. And you.”
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“That’s it? It’s just over?”
“It can be. Hey, I shot Fyn and he forgave me.” She looked up, a slight frown crinkling the smoothness of her brow. “You did, didn’t you?”
He grinned at her. “I’m working on it.”
He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close. She could shoot him any time she needed to, as long as they ended up back here, with her in his arms, for always.
Her mouth curved up and they almost forgot they weren’t alone.
“So he’s your—”
“What, did you think I brought him for protection?”
Shawn’s lips quivered.
Kente frowned. “You shot him? She shot you?”
Fyn nodded. “Some gomers got the drop on me and were using me as a hostage to pressure her. It worked. We both survived.”
Both their eyes widened as they looked up at him. Fyn had the feeling they were wondering how big the gomers were who got the drop on him. He grinned.
“Speed,” Kente said suddenly. “Remove the hostage.”
Sara smiled at him. “Exactly. Thank you for getting that. I’m glad someone finally did.”
“You shot him?” Shawn couldn’t seem to get past that.
“Yes, Shawn, I did. Don’t make me shoot you, too.”
Shawn’s head tipped to the side. “Right. Where would you get a gun?”
Sara just looked at her until her eyes widened.
“But, you said you’re a pilot.”
“I flew some black ops guys. It can paint a target on you.”
That was also part of their cover story.
For the first time, it seemed as if Shawn finally saw the soldier in Sara.
“Damn, girl.”
Kente looked interested. “I’d like to hear about that.”
“I could tell you, but—”
“You’d have to shoot me?”
He laughed. They didn’t.
His eyes widened. “For real?”
Sara kind of shrugged. “Maybe not. Might just have to change your name and relocate.” Then she grinned.
Kente laughed and missed the look Sara gave Fyn.
There was a short silence, then Sara looked at Shawn again.
“We have to go.” She hesitated, then pulled out a card and lay it on the piano. “That’s my cell phone number. If you want me to be there, text me or something.”
Shawn stared at her for a long moment, then nodded.
“Your mama would like Kente.” Sara held out her hand to him, but he folded her into a hug that lifted her off her feet for a minute.
“Thanks,” he said.
“I’m glad I got to meet you.” She looked at Shawn one last time. “Be happy. She’d want you to be happy. That’s all she ever wanted for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell her we were married?” Fyn wanted to know as they stuffed themselves back into her tiny car.
“And have her mad I didn’t invite her?”
“It’s not like she could come—”
“Did you see any sign she was a reasonable person?” Sara gave him a look.
Fyn had to grin. “No.” He hesitated. “What really happened back then? It was more than a fight, wasn’t it?”
“Actually,” Sara sounded resigned, “it wasn’t much of a fight at all. I got jumped by Shawn’s friends. Didn’t have time to put up much of a fight. I’d probably be dead but a teacher happened in. They were charged with assault, but I refused to testify against Shawn because I had been provocative. I did mention I had a bad attitude, didn’t I?”
Fyn felt his insides tighten.
“Did she hit you?”
“She threw the first punch, but what happened scared her. Horrified her. I knew it, even before Evie came to talk to me about it. It was stupid, but it didn’t have to ruin her life. And as we both know, I recovered. Wasn’t fun, but it changed my life for the better.”
“Why is she angry with you?”
Sara hesitated. “How would you like it if we had to live with Kalian? See him at breakfast, lunch and dinner?”
“Oh.”
Since the visit with LaShaunda went so well, Sara was really looking forward to the next one. Not.
It hadn’t been hard to track down Miss Anne. Her whole connection thing sometimes came in handy. Miss Anne no longer lived with her mother, because her mother no longer lived. That was a relief. She wasn’t sure she could have gone there if the old lady had still been around. An old memory surfaced, of her staring at Sara in shock and horror. And fear.
She’d seen her heal, Sara realized now. At the time, she didn’t understand that. Poor Miss Anne. Must have been hard. Looking back, Sara could see things better, understand more. Bewildered by the sudden death of her husband, she hadn’t had the resources to fight her mother.
She was nervous when Fyn pushed the bell by the modest door. It had been eighteen years. Maybe Miss Anne wouldn’t even remember her. Or her mom. Sara heard the rattle of the lock and then the door swung partly open and Miss Anne looked out. She was a faded version of how Sara remembered her. The hair was gray, a few lines around the eyes and mouth. The southern climate was kind to the skin. But her eyes were the same brown, the same anxious look in them.
“Miss Anne?” Sara’s voice caught a bit on the way out. It felt so odd to be looking down on her, instead of up. Like the world had tipped on its end.
Miss Anne stared at her for what seemed like a long time. Then her eyes widened. “Sara?”
Sara nodded.
Miss Anne’s arms reached out and up. “I’d given up hope that you’d come back.”
Sara hugged her gently. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Miss Anne leaned back, clasping her face in her hands and studied her face. She sighed.
“You’re just as lovely as your mother.” She gave a start. “Why are we standing on the stoop? Come in!” Her gaze made it past Sara to Fyn. Her eyes widened again. She looked at Sara.
“This is my husband, Fyn. Fyn, this is Miss Anne, my mom’s best friend.” Her eyes wanted to tear up. She blinked to stop them. It didn’t work real well.
Miss Anne took his hand in both of hers and studied him as carefully as she had Sara. “Husband. Well. My goodness.”
She looked him up, then down, past the tee shirt and jeans to the sports shoes. Then back up again. She looked at Sara and grinned.
“Nice.”
Sara heard herself chuckling as she followed her into the house. Inside they spent a few minutes catching up. Saw pictures of Miss Anne’s kids. Little Martin was a doctor now. Annie was a mother of two.
“And you’re a pilot? I don’t think your mom would have expected that one.”
Sara felt her smile falter. “What did she think I’d be?”
Miss Anne sat back, her gaze getting a far away look. “Oh, she could never be serious about that. Used to say you’d dance on the moon some day.”
Sara smiled. In a way she had danced on the moon.
“Then she’d smile, just like you’re smiling right now. Your dad, he’d just say you were going to be what you were going to be. But I thought sure you’d do something in music.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “I do play and sing a little just for fun, though.” She hesitated, then leaned forward. “Miss Anne, was my mother happy? Did she love my dad?”
Miss Anne looked surprised, then her face turned serious. “You know, don’t you? You know Kyle wasn’t your biological dad?”
Sara nodded.
“You were three when they met. It was love at first sight for both of them. I didn’t realize he wasn’t your bio dad for a long time. He loved you so much.”
“She really, really loved him?”
Miss Anne looked puzzled. “She really, really loved him.” Now she looked worried. “You’re not going to go looking for that man, are you? Your mama said he was a nasty piece of work.”
“No.” In a way she’d already met him. At least she’d seen his work. She still l
ooked worried. “He’s dead, Miss Anne.”
“Oh.” She looked relieved. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No.”
She smiled and patted Sara’s hand. “Goodness, I almost forgot. I’ve got some thing from your mama for you.”
“From my mom?” Sara looked at Fyn.
Miss Anne jumped up and disappeared for what seemed like a long time. When she finally came back, she had a small, carved box.
“I forgot to give it to you when they took you away. I thought about sending it with you, but I was afraid it would get lost. I didn’t trust those foster people.” She stopped and looked at Sara, her eyes tearing up.
“When I moved out of my mama’s house, I went to them and tried to get you back, Sara. They told me you’d settled in where you were. That it would disrupt you.”
She sat down next to Sara. “Was that the truth? Were you all right?”
Sara didn’t hesitate. “I was fine, Miss Anne. I would have liked to come back but I was fine.”
Fyn’s arm came around her waist, warm and strong.
Her eyes closed in relief, so she missed the look they exchanged.
“I was that worried about you. I never stopped. They wouldn’t ever tell me anything about you, except that you were fine. Fine? What did that mean?”
Sara almost asked her when she wanted her back, but stopped. What good would it do? Nothing could be changed now.
“I wish you could have known Evie, the lady I lived with. She was great. You would have liked each other.”
Something in Miss Anne’s face relaxed.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I signed up right out of high school, did my time in college, then went into flight training. It all seemed to move so fast. But I never forgot you.”
They visited a little longer and Sara promised to keep in touch this time and then they left, Sara clutching the box to her chest. Once they were back in their hotel room, she just stared at it.
Fyn sat down next to her. “What are you waiting for?”
“What if it doesn’t close the gap? What if it’s just stuff?”
Fyn pulled her close. “Is it so bad, not knowing more than you know now?”
She smiled. “I guess not.”
She took a deep breath and opened the lid. The first thing she saw was her mom’s flute, very like the one she found in the city. Below that there was some pictures, a few letters from her dad to her mom. At the bottom was a letter addressed to her. Inside it was another envelope, with something hard in it.
