Forms of Love

by Rita Clay Estrada

  “By different you mean superior?”

  She shrugged. “If you wish.”

  “What is your race like?”

  “Compared to your race, we are a quiet people. We work together on everything to accomplish the ultimate achievement, and we usually succeed in our endeavors.”

  “But you’re part human.”

  “Not the part that counts.” It was a denial of anything human. “We are maintaining the Herfronite mind.”

  She acted as if there was no room for error, but life had taught Dan there was always a mistake here and there. “Then why are your powers being reduced?”

  She frowned again. “I don’t know, but we were warned that this might happen. Besides, it only seems to be lessened with those we work with. I can’t seem to locate those who came with me, but I am fine with humans.”

  “‘We’ being all Herfronites or just third-generation ones?”

  “We weren’t told. The Kaus, the second generation, were sent here for the same purpose, but there were problems with them and several died or went insane from the pressure here before returning to Herfron.”

  “What is home like?”

  “Similar to your east Texas, except our tall growths are not trees but spores and molds. Our food supply is vast.”

  “The atmosphere is warm?”

  “It is cool. Our cities are temperature controlled because we—especially the Kaus and the Mais—have a tendency to chill faster than the original ones.”

  “Are there many originals left?”

  She looked surprised. “Of course. They are our leaders, our minds, our lives.”

  “Sounds like a taste of George Orwell.” Dan pulled into the restaurant parking lot and slid into a marked space by the door. Turning off the ignition, he stared at her. “Everything you say could be real or it could all be a figment of my imagination.”

  Her grin was positively impish. “You’re right. It could be either.”

  Twilight shadows hid most of her face. Which is it? he wondered.

  Real, she answered directly into his mind. As real as you are.

  Dan closed his eyes and gulped back his fear. “Let’s go,” he growled. Stepping from the Jeep, he waited for her to alight, then took her arm. Busying himself with the ordinary, he decided, would give him time to absorb the extraordinary. He prayed he could do so. She calmly walked with him into the restaurant, sat down and ordered. At least she wasn’t going to embarrass him by doing something...alien.

  Kendra ordered a large salad and ate it with gusto while downing several glasses of iced tea. “Delicious,” she announced when she placed her napkin next to her empty plate.

  Dan stared down at his giant half-eaten hamburger, then pushed it aside. He’d lost his appetite.

  “If you let yourself, you’ll find it very tasty,” she said gently.

  “How would you know? Have you eaten here before?” He realized he sounded belligerent, but he didn’t know how else to act. Everything was out of his control and he didn’t have a clue how to regain command of the situation.

  “No, but other humans in this restaurant think so. I only eat what you call vegetables.”

  “Then don’t push what you haven’t tried.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Reaching for his wallet, he threw some bills down on the table and stood. “Let’s get out of here.” He left the restaurant without looking back at the woman who had stared up at him with large brown eyes. She brought out so many conflicting emotions in him he could hardly deal with walking back to the truck, let alone solving relationship problems with a dead wife. Nevertheless, he was afraid that she wouldn’t follow him. He was also just as afraid that she would.

  And she did follow him.

  Just five miles up the road, Dan pulled into a hotel. More like a lodge, it sat smack on the edge of Amistad Dam, a large body of water caught between Mexico and the United States. The Rio Grande and the Pecos river had been pooled and dammed to form a huge, crystal clear lake. Retained as a wilderness, the area had become a boating-and-fishing resort to hundreds. Amistad was a success to all but the hungry land developers. They would have preferred more people, more homes, more resorts, more commercialism.

  “We’ll spend the night here,” Dan told her.

  “All right. What time are you planning to leave in the morning?”

  “Early. Why?”

  “I want to see what our first Herfronite space travelers looked like. I’ve seen the tapes, but the real thing must be different.”

  “How?” he demanded, standing next to the Jeep door as she stepped out and joined him on the raised sidewalk.

  She motioned vaguely toward the water. “There are pictures in some caves in one of the tall cliffs.”

  He glanced at the sky. Twilight was turning quickly to night. “I’ll go with you in the morning,” he said.

  “That’s not necessary. I can find my way to Del Rio.”

  “I’ve taken you this far and we haven’t killed each other yet. I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

  She nodded and he turned away, unwilling to think of anything more than finishing this trip. Soon he’d be rafting on the river and she’d be...gone. Wherever the hell “gone” was supposed to be.

  They walked into the orderly quiet of a small, not-quite-shabby lobby and he signed them both into one room. Without knowing why, he was suddenly afraid of losing contact with her.

  He wrote his fear off as being the last link to Kendra—the woman he had lived with and loved for more years than he could count. The woman he hadn’t known at all until today, if the alien beside him could be believed.

  The worst part was that he did believe her.

  The hotel room was cool. The closed blinds darkened the room completely and only a sole hanging lamp shed dim light through the large interior. Twin beds dressed in spreads that looked like 1970s Colonial had headboards bolted against the wall. Dan closed the door and leaned against it. He was exhausted from the events of the day, but even more frightened of tomorrow.

  Kendra stood by the bathroom, her large purse still slung over her shoulder. Her hand tightened on the doorjamb as she gave a sad smile. “Why would I kill you, Dan?” she asked softly, reading his mind again.

  Straightening, he faced her, hands on his hips. “You tell me.”

  “Herfronites don’t believe in killing. Besides, I can wipe out your memories as easily as I can give them. See?” She held out her hands, palms up. “There is no need for killing. You’re taking me where I must go. I’ll try to help you over the loss of your wife and I’ve kept my promise to her. We’re even.”

  It almost sounded fair, but hell, what did he know? He was talking to an alien! “How much do you know about Kendra?”

  “Concerning your relationship with her?”

  Afraid to speak for fear his voice would crack, he nodded.

  “Just about everything. She didn’t think of much else these past six months. I know less about her childhood than I do about your life with her. She was readying herself for your homecoming.”

  He closed his eyes as the pain of her words hit him like sharp nails biting into his skin. If his Kendra had lived, his homecoming would have been different this time. They could have been together and he would have been in her arms tonight, feeling secure in love and safe from loneliness....

  The bathroom door clicked quietly and he knew she’d left him alone. Still he stood there, attempting to recuperate from the outpouring of facts and emotions that had deluged him all day.

  Be patient. I’ll help. Her message rang in his head and he realized that even through closed doors, she could speak to him.

  Finally Dan moved. He set his overnighter on the chair and unzipped it. Do regular things and life will be regular.

  Sleep was a long time in coming. The lengthy shower, the nightcap of brandy from his flask, the promise of answers in the morning—none of those worked to soothe his tensed nerves or frantic thoughts. Eyes wide open, he
lay in bed, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

  Once, he felt her entering his thoughts with a tranquillizing gentleness. “Stop that,” he ordered harshly. The comforting sensations stopped. But her “magic” had helped.

  Finally, he went to sleep.

  * * *

  “OVER THERE!” Kendra pointed, shouting above the roar of the boat motor, and he followed her directions and steered toward the canyon wall. There was an opening—a cove with sheer cliffs running upward like a block of stone before a master chiseler, waiting to be formed into something even more grand. She sat in the front of the boat, her dark hair whipping in the breeze like a gorgeous flag of honor.

  Mexico was on Dan’s right and the United States on his left as he guided the rented boat toward a floating dock. He looked out over the water, realizing for the first time that, with the exception of a lone Mexican fisherman in a homemade boat on the far side of the lake, they were alone.

  “Tie up here,” she ordered. Ever since last night when he’d been so sharp with her, she had only spoken to him aloud, and even then, she hadn’t said much. Yesterday, she had shown glimmers of humor, of emotion. Of life. Now she was an alien again, intent on seeing the proof of her people’s past. He hated to admit that he missed the woman she was when they met.

  He did as she asked, then stepped onto the pier and held out his hand. Placing hers trustingly in his, she jumped to the floating dock, staring unblinkingly at him all the while.

  He couldn’t help but ask, “What are you thinking?”

  “That you’re sad, and I’m feeling that sadness, too. It’s unusual.” She was just as blunt as she had been yesterday. Didn’t she know how to lie?

  She tilted her head and a mischievous glint shone in her eyes. “No. At least, not very well.” She gave a brilliant smile that he felt all the way to his toes. Her hand, pliant and soft, was still in his. “When others can read your mind you might as well tell the truth. Otherwise you spend time and energy building a wall around your thoughts. When others feel it, they know you are lying.”

  Her hand was warm, her fingers lax until she gave a light squeeze that heated more than his hand. He dropped it quickly. Forcing himself to turn from her, he stared at the overgrown path leading up the face of the cliff. “Where to now?”

  “Right up there. Follow me.” She scrambled like a crab, finding footholds as she went. Halfway up she stopped to laugh melodically, throwing her arms in the air to embrace the warming sun. Her laugh was a free, low-toned sound that seemed to rustle like the wind around them.

  “What?” he asked, frowning. He glanced around to see if he had missed something.

  “Nothing.” She looked down over her shoulder at him. “It’s just a beautiful day.”

  “Move it,” he ordered gruffly.

  She did.

  Reaching a ledge more than three-quarters of the way up the steep wall of stone, she turned and offered him her hand. He ignored it, pulling himself up by hanging on to a bush. He wasn’t ready to touch her again. Whenever that happened, the heat between them seemed too intense. If she wasn’t really Kendra, it was a wrong feeling.

  I’m sorry you think that way.

  “Stay out of my mind!” He glared at her.

  A smile tugged at her mouth—a mouth the color of peach blossoms. “Yes, sir!” She accompanied the words with a smart salute.

  He couldn’t help smiling back.

  As Kendra walked along the ledge he followed close behind. They finally stopped in front of a chain link fence behind which was a shallowly scooped-out section of the cliff; both were as high as a two-story building.

  “Behold,” she said, sweeping her hand out with a flourish. “Your ancestors and mine. I believe your people call them pictographs.”

  The wall was covered with drawings too numerous to see all at once—designs of every description in yellow and red ochre paint. The first drawing to catch his eye was an enormous ruby-colored panther, with a tail curling around its body like a powerful whip. Although the red paint had faded somewhat, the color was still bright enough to capture the imagination. The huge “cat” measured at least seven or eight feet wide and half that high. The tail was so long it wrapped around the panther’s underside as if to underline or emphasize what the artist couldn’t put into words.

  Now that the first shock was over, Dan realized that the drawings all harmonized with one another, evoking sheer pleasure in the viewer. Like today’s big billboards advertising products for the times, the pictures here told of their times, too. Ancient man, in his need to communicate, wasn’t too different from modern man.

  Fascinated, he studied each one—the smaller pictographs first. Some were stick figures, others more filled out and detailed; all were alive with a vibrancy that transported them out of history and right into the present. Suddenly he stopped, as his gaze fixed on one particular drawing to the left of the panther.

  What it depicted was undeniable: in the midst of other, more typical Native American-type drawings, stood a spaceman—complete with suit and helmet.

  “Look to the right.” She spoke quietly, just loud enough to gain his attention without startling him.

  He did as he was told. Next to the spaceman stood a crude version of a flying saucer. Stunned, he said the first thing that came to his mind: “I don’t believe it.”

  Kendra’s chuckle was low, sweet and totally ignored. “If you hadn’t met me, you’d look at the drawings and smile, chalking it up to an ancient artist’s fantastic imagination.”

  Knowing she was probably right, he still denied it. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. Thousands of people have already stood in this exact place. None—or very few—had any proof that men from outer space were visitors before their own birth. To them it was fantasy. To you it’s a reality you choose to deny because you can’t quite accept me as an alien. At least, not yet.”

  “And you think I will later?” He turned, searching her brown eyes, translucent skin and slim neck for some sign of the alien being she claimed to be.

  He found nothing. She was a beautiful woman.

  “I think your logical mind has already accepted it. It did almost as soon as you met me. But your emotions stand in the way. Just as they do with all humans.”

  “And your people aren’t emotional?” He was angry but he didn’t know why or with whom. He wasn’t even sure why he was denying her statement. Deep down, he knew she was probably right.

  As Kendra thought about it a moment, her head tilted to the side, reminding him so much of his Kendra....

  “We are, but not at the level your people are. We work together on everything, and the parameters of behavior and emotions are quite concrete in our society. Our rules and laws—social and economic—are written in stone, and it is easier because giving our word commands the same respect as offering money.” She smiled. “It’s much easier when you know what is acceptable behavior, and that anything outside that parameter means being harshly ostracized.”

  He looked back at the images drawn on the cave wall some seven thousand or more years ago. Had the Native American artist taken the subject of his painting for granted because he and his people had accepted the existence of such strange creatures?

  “Be at peace,” she said softly, resting her hand on his arm.

  Dan felt the heat of her touch—and resented it. “My God, you people are coming down here individually and collectively, probably changing the course of history, and you’re telling me to be at peace? One of us is crazy, lady, and I’m not sure it’s me!” Pulling his arm away, he left her and strode to the side of the cliff to begin the descent back to the rented boat below.

  A few moments later, she followed. He knew, because he sensed her presence as surely as he felt the gravel beneath his feet. He forced his mind blank. He couldn’t cope with more mind probing from this strange woman.

  He’d been shaken to his roots at seeing seven-thousand-year-old pictographs that sho
wed spacemen near the isolated Big Bend area. Especially after meeting a woman who had absorbed his wife’s memories—or so she claimed.

  For reasons he didn’t delve into, he waited for her at the boat. It would have been so easy to take off and leave the alien there, but it wouldn’t have answered any of the thousand questions that swirled in his brain.

  As soon as Kendra sat down in the bow of the boat, Dan headed toward open water.

  It was time to go to Big Bend. Meanwhile, he needed to sort out his questions and ask them in a logical manner. He couldn’t remain swamped in emotions. As she had commented earlier, humans were emotional. If he had to deal with her to gain the answers, he’d better deal on her level.

  They were back on the highway to Lajitas immediately after returning the rental boat and checking out of the lodge. He’d been silent for over an hour as they drove through barren land and toward the mountains ahead.

  “Damn,” she muttered, staring at her finger.

  “What’s wrong?” While he’d been wrapped in thought, he’d forgotten she was sitting right next to him.

  “I broke a nail.”

  He looked at her, then down at her hand and up again. “More logical, less emotional? It seems your genetic splicing failed to take into account that human emotions are heightened as their genes become stronger.”

  She grinned.

  He matched it.

  She laughed and he joined in. “I think you’re right,” she admitted. “On my planet we have short, suitable-for-work nails. No one would dream of having anything longer. But here, long nails are the ‘in’ thing for women,” she stated ruefully. “I actually felt angry over a broken nail!

  “You know,” she began, then hesitated, her brow furrowed in a frown. It dawned on him that she was always doing that—and it was as unlike his Kendra as could be. His Kendra always spoke before she thought.