by J. Judkins
“I think we can make it work. Let’s do this, but let’s try to keep everything as secret as possible. There’s going to be media attention after making the announcement, but I don’t see how it can be avoided.”
“You don’t intend to tell friends? Other relatives?”
“Are you kidding?” Kim snorted. “Something like this, they’ll find out on their own. I’ll have friends and family I never even knew existed coming out of the woodwork.”
“I see.”
“I don’t have a lot of money saved up, but I think I could arrange a trip somewhere. We could disappear for a few weeks.”
“Don’t you think you’re making assumptions?”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Where would you like to go?”
Angel’s brow furrowed. “That isn’t what I’m referring to.”
Kim’s mind swam with the possibilities. What would Angel want to buy? A new car to call her own? A new house?
“A new house would be nice,” Kim mused, half to herself. “Would you like that?”
“I think you’re neglecting a crucial step in the process.”
This brought Kim up short. Angel was right. Here she was, spending Angel’s money as if she had every right to it.
“It all depends on what you want to do,” Kim offered in lieu of an apology. “You get to decide. If you’d rather go looking for a new home—someplace bigger, or nicer—that’s entirely up to you.”
The prospect of a new place to live made Kim wonder. Would Angel invite her to move in with her? It seemed likely, given all the love talk and threats of matrimony, but it seemed rude to make assumptions.
Angel cleared her throat. “Isn’t there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
Kim stared at her blankly.
“A question you may have forgotten?”
“Um.”
“One specific, important question?”
Kim fidgeted in her chair. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” she admitted.
Angel drew in a large breath, then let it out slowly.
Kim brightened. “Oh! I get it. That question! No wonder you’re upset!”
She reached across the table to take Angel’s hands into her own. “Angel. I know this is short notice, but I wanted to ask . . .”
“Yes?”
“Would it be okay if we turned the ticket in under my name, and not yours?”
Angel’s left eye twitched. Her grip tightened slightly.
“Don’t worry about anything,” Kim said. “Assuming we go through with it and make it official, nothing is going to change between us. I’ll handle the legal matters. You’ll have to get used to sharing my last name, but your money will still be yours. It shouldn’t be a huge transition. You’ve already got the account in your name, after all. Well, mostly in your name.”
“No.”
This surprised Kim. “No?”
“That has got to be the single most unromantic proposal I have ever heard!”
“What does romance have to do with anything? What I’m suggesting is more of a business proposal.”
“Are you seriously using business as justification?” Angel pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. “Not just no, then, but emphatically no. The money is incidental, as far as I’m concerned.”
“What are you talking about?”
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid revealing your true feelings for me. I absolutely refuse to allow you to justify those feelings with an interest for financial gain.”
Kim had the feeling she was missing something. “What’s the problem? I’m willing to go all the way for you, Angel, to endure a media circus for you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
Angel snatched up the ticket and held it as if preparing to rip it in half. “Perhaps I should remove your excuse.”
Kim shot up from her chair. “Don’t do that!”
“Is this important to you? Do you feel strongly about it?”
The pieces fell into place. With deliberate care, Kim sat back down in her seat. “I get it. You think this is about money? I honestly don’t care how rich or poor you are. Money isn’t important to me.”
Angel snapped up the keys. “I’m keeping the ticket until this matter is resolved. If you truly intend to marry me, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”
Kim could only stare as Angel stormed out of the kitchen and slammed the front door after her.
Okay . . . what just happened?
Her cell phone went off from its place by the refrigerator. Kim picked it up and verified the caller I.D. before answering. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Kimmie. Got a minute?”
“Of course.”
“Any plans for today?”
Kim sighed at her closed front door, visible just beyond the living room. “Apparently not. Angel ran off with the car.”
“How have you two been getting along?”
It all came rushing back to her. Eighty-three million! Even after the government snatched away more than half through the legalized theft known as taxes, millions of leftover anything was more than enough to retire on. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it!”
She was about to say more, but caught herself. What happened to her own advice to tell no one? The money wasn’t even guaranteed. It especially wasn’t guaranteed with Angel threatening to destroy the ticket.
Kim’s analytical mind kicked into high gear. Could Angel have meant something else? Something symbolic? Could she be planning to destroy the ticket in some sort of twisted willing-to-throw-it-all-away-for-love gesture? That would be romantic bordering on stupid!
“Kim? Are you still there?”
“Just a second,” Kim said.
For several seconds, Kim fought an internal battle. Her natural reluctance to share information warred against her pressing need to share what had happened.
This was her father. Surely she could tell him something.
“Angel and I went out last night. She bought a ticket.”
Kim paused. When exactly had Angel purchased her ticket? Kim had no idea, so she decided to leave it out. “One thing led to another, and I guess there’s no easy way to say this except to just come right out and say it.” She grinned maniacally, excitement welling up within her. “Angel got lucky last night!”
There was dead silence on the other end.
“Dad? Are you still there?”
George Rowland’s voice sounded strained, as if he’d just endured a coughing fit. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I still can’t believe it!” Kim gushed. “I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it.”
“You seem happy,” he said slowly, “but maybe it might be best if you kept that sort of information to yourself from now on?”
“Normally I would, but I want your advice.” Kim paced about the room. “Do you think Angel and I should try to keep our money separate? I haven’t checked the state laws. What do I need to do for her to legally take my last name? I want to do right by her, but at the same time, I don’t want her feeling pressured into doing something she doesn’t want to do.”
“I see.”
Kim blinked as her own words caught up with her. “Wait a second . . .”
When she put it that way, the whole thing sounded like a marriage proposal!
The horrifying realization of what she’d said and done with Angel nearly caused her to drop the phone. “I said . . . I think that I . . . oh, God.”
“Kim?”
“I proposed to Angel this morning!”
If her father replied, Kim didn’t hear it. Her entire conversation with Angel rushed back in crystal clarity. Every word. Every last detail.
But wait . . . hadn’t Angel turned her down? Kim nearly wept in relief.
She’d done everything short of an actual proposal, but she’d been saved. Angel hadn’t accepted it.
Not only had she not accepted it, she’d . . . rejected her.
Angel’s words echoed in her head. “Not just no, then, but emphatically no.”
Kim’s grip on the phone tightened as a sudden pain in her heart caught her off guard and made her gasp.
Angel had rejected her.
Their engagement was off.
Kim drew in a deep breath. The sharp pain eased into a dull ache that refused to go away.
Angel had rejected her.
In desperation, Kim tried to rationalize it. Why should that make her feel bad? If Angel had told her no, what of it? Shouldn’t that make her happy? If Angel didn’t want to get married, that was a good thing.
Wasn’t it?
Kim sat down on the cold kitchen floor. If it’s good news, why does it hurt so much?
“What did she say?” her father asked.
“She said no. Angel said no.” Kim had to make two attempts before being able to end the call. The phone clattered to the floor.
Kim hugged her knees to her chest, hoping to somehow keep herself together.
What had she done?
All this time, Angel had been holding out hope for a romantic proposal. What she’d gotten instead was an impersonal, clinical business arrangement. Kim couldn’t blame Angel for wanting to leave her now. She’d ruined everything for her. Angel should have known Kim didn’t have a romantic bone in her body.
What would happen if Angel’s memories came back to her? Would she see Kim as someone she loved? Or would she see her as someone too frightened and self-conscious to ever love her in return?
The all too familiar feeling of dread washed over her. The pseudo-engagement may not have been binding, but Kim now realized she’d been counting on it. The engagement meant Angel cared for her. It told her that they would find a way to stay together. It had been a safety net of sorts.
And now that thin safety net was gone.
Kim wrung her hands. Why would Angel want to stay if she thought she wasn’t loved? How was this happening? She couldn’t lose Angel! She just couldn’t!
I need to get Angel to agree to some sort of permanence. But how?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kim sat before the first of the two desks in the computer room, thinking. It wasn’t a large room. There was barely space for the two ceiling-high bookshelves facing each other, both inherited from the previous owner. The second desk held the flat-screen television, six feet away from the first.
It had taken over an hour of internally dodging the subject before she’d finally come to the realization that her situation with Angel hadn’t officially changed. Not truly. It had been called into question—that couldn’t be denied—but wasn’t an engagement nothing more than a promise to make another promise, a more permanent promise, whenever those involved finally decided to tie the knot?
Kim leaned back in her chair. It was difficult not to imagine Angel’s hand in the matter. The idea of rigging the lottery system in an attempt to appear more marriage-worthy seemed like something she might try. It did cast Kim as an unscrupulous lout willing to marry for financial gain though, which was why it managed only a seven out of ten in her book, but it was still a plan worthy of consideration.
But parts of it didn’t make sense. Kim had said the right words, but Angel had rejected her. Why would Angel bother implementing such a grand scheme if she didn’t intend to take advantage of her success?
It seemed clear that Angel hadn’t been after a romantic proposal. But if that were true, what did she truly want?
To answer that question, Kim needed to fully contemplate the end results. Since Angel’s rejection, Kim had been obsessing over what she needed to do to ensure Angel would stay. Had this been by design? Angel knew how much Kim dreaded the thought of her remembering her past life. Had she been hoping to inject a little uncertainty into their relationship, hoping her recent rejection would spur Kim into action?
Kim’s fingers drummed the tabletop. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Angel was a romantic. Why else would an admitted romantic deliberately go out of her way to engineer an unromantic proposal and then reject it? It had to be because Angel thought Kim would panic and become desperate to keep her at any cost. Perhaps even desperate enough to arrange a romantic proposal, an act against her very nature.
Their goals were the same, however. Above all else, Kim wanted Angel to stay, to preserve what they had together. It wasn’t because she felt needy, or didn’t want to be alone. She’d lived most of her life by herself, and had been quite comfortable with it.
Angel’s plan seemed designed to spur Kim into desperate action to achieve the same results. Given that knowledge, the solution became obvious for all to see. To preserve the status quo, Kim would give Angel a demonstration of love that couldn’t be denied. She would achieve the results Angel sought, the same reassurances, but through physical means, rather than verbal.
An act of love to encourage Angel to stay was vastly different from an act of love to prevent marriage. An amateur might assume both plans were the same, but they’d be wrong. They wouldn’t realize that the new plan worked in conjunction with the original. Kim would be working toward a tangible goal, rather than simply doing her best to prevent Angel from achieving hers.
But the revised plan wasn’t perfect. It still had one fundamental flaw which prevented its successful implementation.
No Angel.
Her elusive girlfriend was out on her own. Perhaps exploring Ravenwood, or tracking down another potential suspect on her alien victims list.
Kim hit the power button for her computer and took a moment to make herself more comfortable. Angel had written her alien abduction suspect list at this very computer. Perhaps she could do her own investigating? There was certainly nothing better to do.
It took Kim more time to find and load the file than it took to read its contents. There wasn’t much to it: Six store owners and six business executives. Five in the banking industry. Three psychologists, three engineers, two technicians, one medical doctor, a politician, and one author. All arranged by names, dates, and professions.
Kim recognized Joseph Friedman from Brookings, but one other name caught her eye: Maris Dorman, a Canadian space opera science fiction writer. Kim had been a fan of hers for years, and most of her books enjoyed a permanent home in her collection.
She gave her chair an idle spin. Assuming Angel’s catch-and-release theory was accurate, what could the aliens want with Maris Dorman? Had they been fishing for ideas, wanting to tap the local talent pool? Were they looking for advice to avoid common mistakes?
Kim could think of several lessons any potentially world-invading aliens might appreciate knowing off the top of her head. Ensure your shields aren’t critically vulnerable to viruses launched from a Macintosh PowerBook. Make sure the harmless, native bacteria isn’t going to kill you. If water burns like acid, don’t invade a planet made up of mostly water.
Kim called up Maris Dorman’s website. She skimmed past the author biography and found two links to brand new stories she hadn’t heard of before.
The first took her directly to the fifth book in her current, ongoing space opera series. Kim made a mental note to pick it up at some point before moving on.
The second link brought her to a reference page for a currently unwritten contemporary story. Apparently, it was going to be a collection of point-of-view short stories told by people living through the aftermath of an alien invasion. Kim checked the due date. Another year to wait, if the author’s guestimate was to be trusted.
Kim scooted her chair a little closer and settled down to read.
The story summary read like a book preface. Four years ago, starships appeared in the sky. The aliens announced that Earth was now a part of their empire and had advised humanity to “get used to it,” as the matter was already decided. The governments of Earth took exception to that, and mobilized for war.
Unfortunately, alien technology was too far advanced. Nothing of human manufacture could even touch them. To make
matters worse, the aliens weren’t content to merely destroy their attackers. They annihilated the military bases responsible for the attack, as well as the closest cities or towns.
People blamed their leaders for wanting war. “The aliens never killed anyone without being provoked,” they would say. “Stop provoking them!”
Some countries lasted longer than others, but in the end, the results were the same. Earth surrendered less than three weeks later.
The years drifted past. People became accustomed to seeing vast ships hanging in the sky as part of their day-to-day lives. There were no thoughts of resistance—what would be the point? The aliens were too powerful. Life under alien rule became the new normal.
That was where the summary ended.
Kim clicked on a few highlighted characters at random, but none of the links were active. Nowhere in the brief synopsis had the author offered a reason as to why the aliens did the things they did, or what they intended to do with the Earth now that they’d taken it.
Kim shut down the computer and leaned back in her chair. It was easy to imagine a speculative fiction story placed in such a world, years after the aliens had assumed control. People would remember a life before the transition and would need to adapt to the new order. The optimistic would welcome the change and capitalize on opportunities. Others might resent the aliens or become instrumental in establishing organized resistance. There were limitless possibilities.
Given that Maris Dorman had made Angel’s list, it seemed more likely than not that her unwritten story had something to do with the alien’s plans. The basic storyline seemed plausible to her, up to and including how the public responded, which nations resisted, which folded, and how the aliens kicked ass. Could it be a prediction of things to come?
It was worth thinking about.
Chapter Thirty
“I need to borrow the car again,” Angel said.
Kim braced one hand against the bathroom countertop and gave Angel a classic bleary-morning, one-eyed stare. “That’s it? No, I’m sorry for getting home so late last night? Or, I’m so sorry I never bothered to call, that was really inconsiderate of me?”
