by Mari Collier
“Andrew, if y'all wish to stay, we'll see to it that y'all are driven home.”
“You are not the head of our family. Mother is. I'll go bring her.”
She turned to flounce out, but Lorenz's words made her pause.
“Just remember Mina's Story when y'all have children and the doctors tell y'all that something is abnormal. It won't be. Then y'all will need to talk with me.”
Sarah looked at him and shuddered. “I will not listen to you. Mother is correct. You and your father are not natural. You are demons!” She fled the room and the door banged behind her.
Lorenz looked at the other three. Gary was smiling his “I'm just a bit different from the rest of the human race” smile; Elizabeth was shaking her head; and Andrew gave a big sigh and stood.
“Thank you, Pawpaw.”
Lorenz smiled. Elizabeth was awed. She rarely saw her grandfather or the smile that drew everyone to him. My word, he's still a handsome man even if he is old, she thought.
“By the way, I've asked someone to help clarify certain points. He's here now.”
One of the bookcases swung outward and Llewellyn stepped into the room. Surprise, then awe registered on each face. Gary's mouth fell open and both he and Andrew straightened. Andrew had heard tales about how huge his great-grandfather was, but until now had never believed them.
“Hello, Papa, thanks for coming. Let me introduce y'all as they've grown since y'all saw them as babies.
“Everyone, this is your great-grandfather. He is known here as Zebediah L. MacDonald. In his own world he is Llewellyn, Maca of Don.
“Papa, the eldest is Gary, Randall's son,” he pointed at Gary, “Elizabeth is his sister, and standing next to her is Kendall's son, Andrew, who I don't believe y'all have seen.”
Elizabeth stood and curtseyed. “You would be the Prince from Mina's Story, wouldn't you? She couldn't believe her own courage, but Gary could be so irritating if she didn't beat him at something.
Amusement lighted Llewellyn's brown eyes. “For a wee lassie, ye are as clever as yere great-grandmither, but I am nay a prince.”
“However, y'all are right, Elizabeth. He just used the word prince for our language. In his own world he is Maca. That means he rules a continent, if he can reclaim it when we go there.”
Lorenz held up his hands. “Now does everyone remember Mina's Story?”
Gary nodded and Andrew looked pensive before speaking. “Isn't that the fairytale my father told me when I was little?”
“Yes, it is, but Mina's Story is basically true. Those that look like your Uncle Randall are the Justines from the planet Justine. Papa's people are called Thalians after their planet. There's another group of people from a different planet called Brendon, and the other enemies are on the planet Krepyon.
“The part that isn't quite true is the ending. The Thalian warrior that destroyed the planet was LouElla, Papa's mother. She is here also. Papa was to be stranded here, but plans went differently as they can on this planet. We have their ship. If you all would like to see it, you all can follow us.”
Llewellyn interrupted. “First I need to tell each and every one of ye, that nay tis to be spoken about what tis said and seen outside of these four walls other than with Randall, yere grandfither, or yere Aunt Melissa. If ye find that boarding something so alien is too big a step right now, Lorenz twill remain with ye. Most important tis the fact I want ye all to ken that ye are welcomed in my House and in my heart.”
Chapter 36: Smashed Dreams
Margareatha frowned at her ankles. The afternoon was hot and sultry and the air barely moving. The curtains at the bedroom window hung in discouraging stillness. Why would this pregnancy make her ankles swell? This was but one baby, or so “Doctor” Gary had assured her.
“Walk as much as you can, put your feet up every chance you have, drink plenty of water, and take those little tablets every day. Hide them from your husband if necessary.”
She smiled in remembrance. Randall's son liked to impress everyone with the knowledge he gained from the Golden One's medical files. She could hear Walter putting away the lawn mower in the shed. It wasn't often he was home since he'd been assigned to the New York area. He'd grown more and more tight-lipped about his work (if it was possible for a Bureau of Investigation agent to become more tight-lipped). Worse, he seemed to be grappling with a problem of insurmountable proportions. Rita assumed it had something to do with the rum running on the high seas, the transfer of spirits in the metropolitan areas, and the different mobs fighting for control over the flow of liquor.
She swung her feet over the side of the bed and pulled on her shoes. The fit was tight and uncomfortable. If the baby didn't arrive when expected she would need to buy new shoes and do it on the sly. Walter had no idea of how wealthy she was. She'd left him with the impression that she had a small family legacy from the stock her family had purchased years ago. With the run-up of the market, he hadn't been too suspicious until last October when the market crashed. Rita had no idea how to tell him that The MacDonald Corporation wasn't listed on the Exchange. The crash would not have affected her stock. Nor could she tell him that part of her income was derived from sporadic lumber or cattle sales from her spread in Nevada. She had intended to tell him, but fear of rejection stilled her tongue.
Rita scooted into the bathroom. She swore she spent more time in there than anywhere in their two bedroom house. Walter had been reluctant to purchase a home, but she assured him it was a commission from Melissa Carson, the wealthy uptown relative, for one of her landscapes. She'd never really gotten around to explaining that Melissa was her niece, not a distant cousin. Right now, the Bureau was demanding to know more about her background. She'd managed to plead not feeling well while pregnant and put off contacting the state of Missouri or a church for a birth certificate. The baby was due within the week. The MacDonald Corporation would need to manufacture some false papers for her. The Bureau hadn't been so picky when she and Walter wed two years ago after a brief courtship. And she was happy, unbelievably happy, but now the pregnancy was her most important concern.
It was time to check the roast. She smiled to herself. Walter loved his meat and potatoes. He was still a Wisconsin farm boy at heart. He'd been surprised that his sophisticated lady from the city fit so well on his family's Wisconsin farm when they visited. Once again, she could not share that part of her life when she visited her grandfather on a Missouri farm in the late1840's. Dear God, how do you tell the one you love that you are old enough to be his great-grandmother? She kept waiting for him to ask about her two hearts, but he had not. The opening for an explanation hadn't occurred.
She pulled open the oven door as Walter stepped inside.
“Is it ready?”
“Yes, I need to pull it out and make the gravy.”
“Here, let me do that.”
She watched his broad shoulders and blonde head as he bent, his face still red from the sun, his white shirt would need bleaching again from the perspiration stains. Working outside had taken away his grumpiness and strain from his job of fighting the mobs that infiltrated every level of the big cities and brought back his concern for her welfare.
“I'll wash up while you finish.”
Rita gave thanks for his change of attitude. He had never spoken about his work, but she knew from the hours he worked and the different routes he would take home that he was deeply involved in some dangerous investigation. She piled the roast and vegetables onto a platter and started the gravy. When the gravy began simmering, she carried the platter to the already set table in the dining area of the small living room. She returned to the kitchen and poured the gravy into the bowl. She was about to pick it up when a radiating pain across the pelvic area hit her and water ran down her legs.
She glanced at the clock. The twins had taken about twenty hours for birthing, but that was no guarantee how long this birth would take. The twins had been born in 1882 almost fifty years ago. She carried the bowl to the
table and looked up as Walter entered wearing his suit jacket. He walked to the table.
“Well, that looks fine, Rita.” He pulled out her chair for her.
Rita opened her mouth to tell him dinner might be hurried when the kitchen door burst open. Two men with guns pointed at them entered. One moved immediately into the dining area.
“Don't' move. Hands up. Barney, close that door and then go find some blankets.”
Rita could see anger turning Walter's face red. “She's expecting.”
The man at the doorway laughed, “Maybe a ride will get her over that condition.” Then he crumpled to the floor, screaming, holding his head in pain, as he emptied out his stomach on their carpet.
“What the hell?” The other man, who was closer to Rita and the kitchen, looked at the crumpled man and started to take a step forward when Rita's hand shot out and grasped his arm pushing the gun up into the air. She drove her mind into his, searing at his brain. His hand opened and the revolver fell harmlessly to the floor. He stared helplessly at her, unable to move.
Walter was standing with his gun out and pointed directly at the man on his knees. “I need my handcuffs and an extra belt. Once I have them secured, I'll need to call the police.” There was a steeliness in his voice that Rita had never heard before, but knew was within him.
She pushed the man away from her like he was a baby, entered the hallway, and quickly went to the bedroom for the cuffs. She could feel the water dripping down her legs. Less than five minutes had passed and the next pain should be at least an hour away. Hurriedly she grabbed the handcuffs and belt. On an impulse, she picked up her purse with the extra car key Walter had made for her. I will need to go to Gary's place, she thought to herself. Walter has to take these two in and write reports. What Walter thought about the incapacitated thugs, he had not said, nor had he asked for an explanation. She had seen the ice in his blue eyes and she knew explanations at this point weren't what he wanted to hear.
The purse she dropped at the edge of the hall before entering the room. The two men were standing by the sofa, hands in the air. The vomit on the floor was reeking, mingling with the smell of roast beef. I cannot be ill, Rita thought to herself. I've smelled worse. She handed the cuffs and belt to Walter.
Walter's next actions proved her suspicions correct. He did not hand the revolver to her, but tucked the belt in his pocket and stepped behind one man.
“Move and I'll just have one live body when the police arrive.” He quickly snapped the handcuffs into place. “Turn around, sit on the sofa and do not move. Prove to me how smart you are.”
He pulled out the belt and moved behind the other man before tucking the revolver into his waistband.
How stupid, Rita thought.
“Get him!” The handcuffed man launched himself at Walter. Walter whirled to face the man coming off of the couch when the other man jabbed at his shoulder and threw his right fist driving Walter back. Walter recovered and jabbed at the man's jaw and rammed his left fist into the man's belly. The other man threw his body at Walter again and the two went down.
Margareatha had seen enough. She sent her mind into the untied one causing him to scream in pain. Walter grabbed his gun and used the butt to knock the handcuffed one out, and then used it on the man rolling in pain on the floor. As he stood, he pointed the gun at Rita, his face white and drained of color.
“I don't know what you are, but you are not human. I want you to sit in that chair while I tie you.”
“You'd do that to your wife, the woman who is carrying your child?”
“That cannot be my child. Now sit.”
“Just who do you think the father could possibly be?” Her voice was as cold as her insides.
“That rum and gun running red-head that has the same kind of eyes that you do.” He motioned to the chair with the gun. “I'm arresting you.”
“Walter, those men had guns and couldn't stop me. Why do you think you can?” Her voice was bitter and she raised her hand to point her right index finger at him. “Toss the revolver towards the hall door.”
His face was an interesting study as he tried desperately not to obey her, but his arm and hand moved and the gun flew through the air. Rita waited until it landed, walked to the hall, reached around for her purse, and picked up the gun before she straightened.
“I loved you, Walter, as I have not loved anyone for years. You just destroyed that, but I swear to you, this is your child. I will give birth without worrying about the baby's future or mine. I'm taking the gun and the car. You'll find the gun outside. If you hurry, you might even be able to keep those two confined.” Rita felt the tears welling in her eyes and her throat constricting.
“Who is that man?” Walter was shouting at her.
She turned at the archway into the kitchen. “He is my half-brother. He doesn't possess many morals, but committing rape and incest aren't among his sins. Tell your mother I will send her pictures of her grandchild.”
He tried to rush after her. Forgive me, she whispered as she entered his mind and stopped him from moving long enough for her to exit the house, open the car door, set the throttle, and turn the crank to start the engine. The effort caused her mind to release him, and he barged out the door. She entered his mind again to stop him and used mindspeak. Perhaps he heard her thinking, 'good bye, Walter, good bye, my love.' She began the drive to Gary's home as a scream of hurt and anger formed in her throat. She fought back the panic and the pain and kept the automobile on the road.
Once she had to pull over for the contractions to subside. By the time she reached Gary's home her clothes and the car seat were drenched, partly from her sweat and partly from her womb. She pulled into his long drive way and parked at the rear of the house. She couldn't tell if he was home or not and she leaned on the horn.
This brought the cook and the handyman running. The handyman kept muttering that she couldn't be here. She needed to leave. Rita was about to go into their minds and direct them to Gary when the cook started screaming.
“She's having a baby. Get Dr. MacDonald.”
Gary had started down the steps when he heard the scream and was beside her within seconds. “Help me get her inside of the house.”
'We've got to get this car out of here.' Rita had her hands clamped to the wheel. 'Walter will have the police or Bureau agents here. I can't stay here. You haven't seen me.' She used mindspeak rather than risk the servants hearing that the law would be after her.
“There isn't time to take her to the hospital. I'll take her to the office. Mrs. Felton, don't expect me home this evening. I have a prior engagement.”
He opened the door. “If you'll lie down in the back seat, you'll be more comfortable.”
Rita gritted her teeth. “Just get me some place safe. I'm fine right here. We'll need gas. Walter will be looking for this car.”
“We'll go to the office.”
He turned to the cook. “Mrs. Felton, would you bring my bag? Quickly, please, as I may need it.”
Both the man and woman ran off.
Gary used the opportunity to explain. “Once the baby is born, I'll take you to the lodge. I'll call Aunt Melissa and she can meet us there.” His brown eyes were sympathetic as he helped her into the back seat and then he sat in the driver's seat.
Mrs. Felton came running out the house and handed him the bag.
“Thank you, I should return by tomorrow afternoon.” He backed out of the driveway.
“I'm serious, Gary, get rid of this car.”
“If I don't get you to the office, you'll kill that baby. Nothing is sanitary here.”
“Don't you realize I'm from an era that didn't even know there were germs? I'd rather go to the lodge first.”
“We may not have time. It's too far to risk it. What happened?”
“Two mobsters broke in and were going to kill us. I stopped them with my mind.” She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to stop the sob in her throat. “Walter accused me of carrying
Red's baby and claimed I wasn't human.”
Gary was silent, his round face concerned.
“I used my mind to stop Walter from coming after me. He'll have to finish securing the one man before going next door to use a telephone, but he'll have the police looking for me, for this car, and possibly for you. We cannot go to your office.”
“Very well, I have a place no one knows about. We should be safe there. I don't want to explain why we both have two hearts.”
Chapter 37: Texas: September 1, 1939
“Look, Grandma, it's Uncle Lorenz and he's bringing y'all flowers for your birthday! I'll go get a vase.”
Brigetta looked up from the table where she was enthroned in her wheelchair. At ninety-five, her hair was white and thinning, the lashes completely missing from her eyelids, but her eyes still worked well enough to watch as Lorenz approached. He was dressed in a dark grey western suit, his black boots shining beneath the dust, his grey Stetson carefully set on top of his iron grey hair. To her it looked like there was a great blob of white clutched in one hand, but she could see well enough that Lorenz was still walking upright, his broad shoulders swaying with the bowlegged walk of a man more accustomed to riding a horse than to walking, and why, she wondered, was he using that cane. She was certain he did not need the elaborate ebony and gold trimmed stick.
He is still a good looking man, she thought to herself as Lorenz handed her the bouquet and bent to kiss her cheek. The sweet odor of white roses enveloped her.
“I bought these for Martin. He would have brought them for you if he were still with us.”
Brigetta smiled to herself remembering that night so long ago. “Lorenz, du sit here beside me.
“Addie,” she said to one of the great-nieces sitting on her left side, “du get Uncle Lorenz some lemonade. Make sure there is ice in it.”
Lorenz sat in the chair on her right that she had indicated, removed his hat, and carefully set it on his knee. His mouth was almost straight, but the right side still pulled higher from the scar.
