Atlantis Quest

by Gloria Craw

  I sent the same thought into his mind. His expression cleared, and he crunched another carrot.

  Mom was sitting cross-legged on the floor by our table. It was a surprise to see a bunch of my clothes spread out in front of her. My skis and snowboard were leaning against the wall.

  “You’re back earlier than I expected,” she said, glancing up at me. “I thought I’d have you all packed up before you got home. Alex is only just getting the travel suitcase out of the garage now.”

  I think my mouth might have dropped open. “You’re letting me go? I thought I’d have to beg.”

  She folded one of my shirts and said, “Katherine and I had a nice lunch today at the new vegan place near my gym. She mentioned what a responsible girl you are. And I had to agree. Not many girls your age save up to buy their own car, let alone pay their own insurance.”

  “Very responsible,” my dad said around a mouthful of carrots.

  “She also reminded me that you’ll be eighteen in three months. I think I have to let you experience some of the world on your own. Small steps like vacationing with them will be perfect.”

  Dad winked at me. “Wonders never cease,” he muttered just loud enough for me hear.

  I hid a chuckle. Though he’d never say so, he thought she was a bit overprotective, too. I appreciated that he empathized with me.

  Alex came in from the garage lugging our biggest, ugliest travel suitcase. “This thing is an embarrassment,” he said, laying it down next to my mom. “It doesn’t even close right.”

  Mom patted it and eased it onto its side. “We’ve had this longer than we’ve had you kids,” she said with fondness. “It’s been all over the world. There’s still a lot of use in it. No sense cluttering a landfill with perfectly good luggage.”

  Alex pushed his red hair out of his eyes and gave me a long-suffering look. Mom had also gone ultra-green. She recycled everything she could, including things she shouldn’t.

  “Don’t worry,” my dad said. “I have a roll of duct tape in the garage. You can strap it together with that.”

  Alex shook his head. “Pray the power goes out at the airport. If it’s dark, no one will think you’re homeless and looking for a place to sleep.”

  Dad watched Alex push his too-long hair away from his eyes. “Either you get a haircut this weekend, or I’ll take a pair of clippers to it while you’re asleep,” he said.

  My brother gave him the kind of look that implied good luck with that, Dad. Then he turned his glare on me. “This totally sucks,” he said. “You get a ski trip, and I get stuck at home eating tofu turkey.”

  “You can hardly tell the difference,” my mom muttered.

  Alex made a face.

  “You get to come golfing with me and the boys,” my dad said in an attempt to lift his spirits.

  Alex sat down and put his head in his hands. “Tofu turkey and golfing with senior citizens… I hate my life.”

  I reached over to pat his leg. “I’ll bring you back a snow globe.”

  He peeked out from under his hair. “I hate you, too,” he muttered.

  He didn’t, though. Alex and I were close. We’d spent a lot of time together during my years of social withdrawal.

  Our old dog, Tsar, came wandering in and lay on the floor next to me. I scratched behind his ears while his brown eyes looked lovingly at me.

  The light caught some glitter on a sweatshirt my mom was folding. I’d never worn the awful bubble-gum-pink thing, and I didn’t intend to start. In a panic, I reached for it, but Mom evaded me. “I can pack my stuff,” I said, trying to stop her from putting it in the case.

  Like she hadn’t heard me, she tucked it in. “Remember to layer before you go outside,” she said. “You’ll be more insulated that way.”

  Alex gave me an evil smile, knowing I hated to be lectured.

  “I thing you’ve outgrown your parka and ski pants,” she continued, “but Katherine said the resort has a clothing boutique. I’ll send some money with you. You can buy new things when you get there. I just hope you’ll be able to find ski pants that fit.”

  “Thanks for reminding me that I’m enormous, Mom.”

  “There’s no shame in being tall, sweetheart. Especially when you’re mostly legs. The girls at my gym would kill for your figure.”

  “Until they figured out how hard it is to find pants long enough and sweaters with sleeves that go all the way to their wrists,” I mumbled.

  Dad breathed a loud sigh from across the kitchen. “Why can’t I have an Oreo now and then, Deborah?” he grumbled. “A little flavor never killed anyone.”

  “No, but high fructose corn syrup is as addictive as some drugs.”

  “According to who?” my dad asked.

  “According to an article in Go Holistic,” she replied. “By the way, I know about your stash of Ding Dongs in the garage. Go get one of those. Enjoy it, because I’m throwing the box away tomorrow.”

  My dad’s shoulders slumped. “You found my hiding place?”

  My mom kept packing. “You’re too predictable.”

  “Come on, Alex,” Dad said, “I’ll share the last of my addictive Ding Dongs with you.”

  I smiled as they trailed out of the kitchen and then scooted up next to my mom. I would miss her while I was gone.

  Putting my arm around her shoulder, I wondered for the hundredth time what I would have done if she hadn’t come into my life. She’d taken me into her home and into her heart when I was eight. By that time, I’d been in and out of so many foster homes I almost couldn’t connect with people anymore. It must have seemed a daunting task to bring me back from that, but she hadn’t given up. She showered me with affection until I’d come to life again. I really couldn’t have loved her more.

  She checked her work. The shirts and pants were folded and tucked in tight. “Well, that’s the last of it,” she said.

  There were so many clothes in the case I could have gone two weeks without washing. “I’ll be super cozy,” I assured her.

  She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. For all her bravado, she was still worried for me. She would always be the same overprotective mother.

  I formed the thoughts, Relax. Alison will be fine, and slipped them between the worries already in her mind. The uneasiness in her eyes cleared.

  “I promise I’ll text or call every day,” I said.

  She patted my cheek. “If you don’t, I will.”

  Her phone rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she looked at the screen. “It’s work,” she said. “I have to take it.”

  “No problem,” I replied. “I’ll finish up.”

  I closed the lid on the suitcase and tried to latch it, but it wouldn’t hold. So I went to the garage in search of duct tape. Dad and Alex were leaning against my car eating Ding Dongs and Twinkies.

  I laughed at how dejected they looked. “If you want, you can hide your snacks under my bed while I’m gone,” I offered.

  Alex spit crumbs as he said, “That’s a good idea. Maybe I don’t hate you after all.”

  Dad perked up and opened his tool chest to get a roll of silver duct tape out. He handed it to me and kissed me on the forehead. “If I don’t see you before you leave tomorrow, have a good time and don’t worry about your mom worrying about you. Alex and I will keep her busy.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said, turning to go back inside.

  “Don’t forget my snow globe,” Alex added, spitting more crumbs.

  “I won’t,” I assured him. “I’ll get the ugliest one I can find.”

  I stayed up for a long time, thinking about how lucky I’d been to get adopted by the McKyes. Ian would have called it destiny.

  The concept of destiny was important to the dewing. Sometimes, the way Spencer, Katherine, and Ian spoke about it made me think it was their version of God. Some omnipotent force who’d mapped out the course of our lives eons ago. I’d been raised to believe in choices. Choices were what made life interesting. Destiny and choic
es didn’t seem to go together, but the dewing believed in making choices, too. They just thought destiny knew what their decisions would be far in advance.

  If destiny did determine things, then being abandoned by my parents, getting passed from home to home, and finally having to leave the only family that had loved me was just the map my life followed. If I accepted that, I had to accept that whatever destiny was; it didn’t care about my pain, loneliness, and fear.

  If I believed in destiny, I would hate it.

  Chapter Six

  The ring of my phone woke me up the next morning. Rolling over, I picked it up and checked the time. It was seven o’clock, and Lillian’s name showed on the screen. I answered with one word, “Why?”

  “When are you coming by the Shadow Box?” she asked.

  I sat up and pushed the hair out of my face. “It’s Saturday, my day off.”

  “Katherine left a bag here for you. I think it’s full of things that will change how you look.”

  Still in a sleepy fog, I asked, “Like a disguise?”

  “Come find out,” she replied.

  “I’ll be by in about an hour.”

  “No later than that. I’m closing up at ten.”

  Lillian never closed the store early. “Okay,” I said, confused.

  She hung up before I could ask more.

  I took a shower and got dressed in the warmest clothes I had left. There wasn’t a lot to choose from since my mom had packed so much. I had to settle for a pair of jeans that were worn at the knees, a faded hoodie, and a pair of old Vans.

  I didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen. It turned out no one was home. Mom had left a note on the table.

  Dad and Alex went to the clubhouse for breakfast. I’m filling in at the gym this morning. Have a good time. Be sure to check in.

  I scribbled “I love you guys” at the bottom, grabbed a handful of granola, and headed for the garage and my car.

  Technically, the Shadow Box didn’t open until nine, but Lillian had left the door unlocked for me. When I went in, she was sitting at her messy desk with her eyes glued to her laptop. From the look of concentration on her face, she was on the trail of a rare book. Chasing down old and valuable volumes was the real source of her income. Running the Shadow Box was more like a hobby for her.

  Hoping to get her attention, I let my backpack drop to the floor.

  “I’m finishing this deal,” she said.

  “Okay,” I replied, strolling over to a grouping of corduroy club chairs at the front of the store. When I sat down, a spring poked me in the hip. I adjusted my position and noticed Lillian must have hired a window painter to create a holiday scene on the glass. There was a snowman in one corner and a Santa Claus in the other. Blue and white snowflakes bordered the top.

  “Festive” wasn’t a word I’d use to describe the Shadow Box. Having the window painted was likely a first time ever event.

  Across the street, the owner of the Tiny Cup Teashop had put a Closing our Doors for good, Liquidation Sale sign up. The teashop was on a long list of stores in the neighborhood to call it quits. What small businesses that remained were struggling to hold on. Lillian hadn’t said so, but if I were a betting girl, I would have put money down that the Shadow Box was running in the red. Business had been even slower than normal over the past few weeks.

  “Got it,” Lillian said.

  “Is it something great?” I asked.

  “A sixteenth-century Italian tribute. I’m going to make an excellent profit. The seller went lower than I hoped he would. I just have to put in the payment information and the transaction is done.”

  She finished at her computer, went into the back room, and came back carrying two cups of tea. I thanked her when she handed one of them to me. When she wasn’t looking, I put it on the table next to me. After almost two years, she still didn’t remember I hated tea.

  Motioning toward the street outside, she said, “It looks like a ghost town, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s still early, and normal people sleep in on Saturdays. Business will pick up in a few hours.”

  Her hazel eyes met mine. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  She was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

  She blew on her tea, took a delicate sip, and then reached for a bag near her feet. “These are the things from Katherine. You should probably look through them.”

  I took the bag, hoping whatever Katherine had put in it would make me appear a whole lot different than my biological mother. Ironically, I didn’t know what she looked like. The dewing tried not to get caught in pictures, because it would be hard to explain to an old acquaintance why you looked the same at sixty as you did at thirty.

  Opening the bag, I found a manila envelope. I pulled airline tickets and new ID out of it.

  “According to this driver’s license, my name is Ali McCain,” I said. “Apparently, I’m from Arizona.”

  Ali McCain had dark hair like mine, but her eyes were black-brown. She also had a rocking good tan. The kind my naturally pale skin could never achieve.

  I pulled a contact lens case out of the bag and opened it up. Two very brown lenses floated in a watery solution.

  “You should have a bottle of pills in there, too,” Lillian said. “They’ll change your skin color…make it a couple of shades darker.”

  I found the bottle. The pills inside were enormous. “Is it possible to swallow these without choking to death?” I asked.

  “Those things have been around for a long time. No one has died yet. At least not that I know of.”

  “That’s comforting,” I muttered, putting the ID in my pocket. “Even with dark eyes and a new complexion, a Truss might recognize me,” I commented.

  “I doubt it. I knew you for more than a year and didn’t make the connection between you and your mother until Ian told me who you were. The resemblance is all in the eyes. That pale blue-gray color is unusual. Besides, she was petite with white-blond hair. You’re the opposite.”

  I was taken aback. “You knew her?”

  “I didn’t know her. I met her once.”

  “You never felt like you should mention that to me?”

  “Why…is it important?”

  “Well, yeah,” I replied. “What did you think of her?”

  Lillian shrugged. “I thought she talked too fast.”

  “That’s all?’

  She nodded and pointed at the pill bottle in my hand. “You should swallow one now. It takes a while for the full effect to set in. There’s should be a blue pill among the others. It’s the reverse dose. When you swallow that one, drink lots of water. You’ll basically pee the color out.”

  “That’s disgusting,” I replied.

  In the bottom of the bag was the book Ian tried to give to me the night before. I wasn’t happy to see it. I felt like I was being pushed again.

  Leaning forward, Lillian caught a glimpse of it and she drew a sharp breath. “Can I look?” she asked with something close to reverence.

  Turning pages, she stopped at one with a beautiful illustration on it. Thanks to an art history class, I had a soft spot for art. Lillian rotated the book so I could see. The inked and colored drawing showed a map of the island of Atlantis. It was southwest of the very bottom of England.

  The picture piqued my interest.

  “I expected the island to be in the Mediterranean,” I said. “Not out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “The island was isolated but our people weren’t,” she replied. “Our maritime technology was centuries ahead of humankind’s. We sailed and had settlements in many different places. Several of them were on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea.”

  She pointed to a dot marked with the word “Laurel.” “Do you recognize this?”

  “Of course, it’s my clan name.”

  “The fifteen original cities were each named after one of the clans.”

  I looked at the arrangement of
dots. The Dawning, Vasitass, Stentorian, and Ormolu lived in the northern hilly region. The Illuminant, Bethex, Calyx, and Klamant lived on the eastern coast and in the plains. The Thane, Elysis, and Truss lived in the middle. The Laurel, Falco, Gallem, and Hezida lived on the west side of the island.

  I let my finger rest lightly over the city marked Laurel. There weren’t any of them left for me to know, but they were still a part of me.

  “It’s a beautiful book,” I said. “And probably valuable.”

  “It’s priceless,” she replied.

  The muscles in my shoulders tightened. “Why did she send it in the bag? About the last thing I want to do is fly to Colorado with a priceless book in my backpack. Can you keep it in the vault until I get back?”

  Lillian thought about it. “No. If Katherine wants you to take it with you, that’s what you should do.”

  She reached for her teacup, and I saw the corded scar that formed a V in her palm. We all had the mark, but it was uglier in Lillian’s palm. It got that way with age. The V in my palm was a faint blue color, sort of like it had been drawn lightly with a blue pen. I’d learned early on to curl my fingers in a bit to hide it. All the other dewing I knew had variations of the same habit.

  The mark had bothered me before I learned its significance. Now I associated it with Atlantis and a connection to my ancestors.

  “There should be one other thing inside,” Lillian said, pointing to the bag. “It will look like a tan tissue square.”

  I checked and found what she was talking about. “What is it?”

  She took the paper from me, pulled a backing off, and laid it over my palm. I watched the V fade away and the edges of the tissue disappear into my skin.

  “How…is that possible?” I asked, turning my hand back and forth.

  “Our technology. You can only wear it for a few days because the material restricts oxygen flow to your skin. It will peel off on its own.”

  I nodded my understanding. A spring in the chair was poking me again, so I shifted uncomfortably. “I think you need new furniture in here,” I commented.

  “I’ll be two hundred eighty-three in March.”