"Oh, she's in an orphanage?" Maria said, her eyes wide.
"Yeah, but she's in a good one. We'll just take her back—"
"No pressure, huh?"
Todd smiled. "You'll love her, Maria. Why don't you at least meet her? She's just outside the door."
"She's outside the door?"
"Yeah," Todd said sheepishly. "We figured, under the circumstances, what with Debby and all, it was high time we all came clean."
Maria sat for a moment contemplating, then nodded.
Todd quickly walked to the door and motioned.
Moments later Stacey and Louis appeared at the door with a child in tow.
"Stacey," Maria said. "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed yourself?"
Stacey grinned. "They filled me in. You think I’d miss this for anything?"
Maria threw her hands to her face. She sat staring wide eyed at the child standing beside Stacey.
"Look at her eyes," Stacey said. "Maria, she has your eyes."
Stacey moved forward and placed the little girl on the bed next to Maria. The child pushed away from Maria and sat back quizzically looking up at her.
After a time she scooted back and gently fingered Maria’s raven hair. Her eyes danced around Maria’s face. "You look like me," she said in profoundly broken English.
Maria glanced up at the small crowd surrounding them. Todd was smiling. Eric and the three Wheeler girls had joined them in the room and were crowded together on the opposite side of Maria’s bed.
"I look like you," Maria said softly, "because we are family, you and I." She looked up at Todd and back at the little girl. "Lylya," she said, reaching to take the little girl’s hands in her own, "I’m your new Mommy."
Chapter_Eight
One week later
The ordeal on the mountain was finally over. Maria and Stacey had been released back to their homes in Parktown and the Jensens, who had lost their cabin to the avalanche, were being relocated south of Salt Lake City.
The mountains surrounding Parktown were hinting at an early spring. The cool crisp air, squabbling birds and smell of pine reminded Maria once again why she had grown to love this new life so deeply.
It was early Saturday afternoon. Todd and Maria had left Joshua with the Wheelers and had gone back to their cabin. The Fasbenders had joined them. They were sitting in Todd and Maria's cabin living room around the warm crackling fireplace.
Lylya had nodded off and was sleeping soundly, curled up on the couch next to Maria.
Maria sat gently rolling her hand over the child’s hair. "How did you find her? I mean, I know the Mums rescued her but—"
"Everybody is coming here," Todd said, "millions. They figure there are over five million in Utah now. President Hatfield has issued orders to start turning people away. They’ve brought in orphans from all over. Lylya was right here at the Beehive House."
Maria turned away from Lylya and looked at Todd. "Why didn’t you just tell me about all of this?"
"I didn’t want to disappoint you. I needed to be sure and even then, for Lylya’s sake, we all needed to know if you’d go through with the adoption. The Mums wouldn’t allow non-Mormon access to their database, so Debby did it for me and once we started, the Mums demanded that Debby be the only one involved. Even Cyrus couldn’t be involved. It had to be strictly between Debby and me."
"Why?" Maria asked.
"Because," Gladys said, breaking her silence, "their genealogy database contains all the data listing names, addresses, and even individual members' standing within the church. Even now, Rickies are being singled out and targeted all over Europe. We’re the world’s newest minority, blamed for the sins of the United States for the last two hundred years. We’ll be at war soon. Some say the Rickies living in Europe are already knee deep in it."
"Why would you think I wouldn’t want to adopt little Lylya?" Maria said.
Todd shrugged."Truthfully, I still haven’t completely figured you out. I thought you would, but I didn’t want to assume you would."
"She’s me," Maria said, smiling down on the sleeping child. "How could I turn her away?"
"It’s strange," Gladys said. "I guess I was expecting some sort of reaction when you told her you were her new mother, but she didn’t twitch, didn’t seem to care one way or another."
The room was silent for a time. Maria sat gently patting the sleeping child. Finally she leaned and tenderly kissed her forehead. "Let’s get the paperwork taken care of," she said. "Let’s make sure this baby is never alone again… not for another damn minute."
~~~
A small group of men huddled at the far end of a dimly lit tavern, deep in the heart of what was left of Nashville, Tennessee. They perched in a tight row, like birds on a telephone wire sitting atop three legged bar stools and resting their arms on the polished wooden bar.
A tobacco smoke halo shrouded the silent television set, its screen lending its flickering blue sparkle to an impressive stock of liquor bottles and glasses lined up in neat rows against the adjacent wall. A friendly bartender went about his business in front of a heavy wood- framed mirror adorned with ads, pictures of patrons, and old American dollar bills.
The men at the bar burst into laughter, sounding for all the world like a gaggle of Canadian geese. With each volley of laughter, the big man’s fingers curled more tightly around his beer glass. Laughter, he thought. How did that ever come to be? What’s the evolutionary strategy? What point is there to it?
There had been a time when the big man at the other end of the bar had laughed his share, and then some; he’d been known to be downright jolly. A time when Nashville, Tennessee had been a proper city, a place of importance, a place filled with important people. A time when the big man had been important too.
Another volley of whooping laughter brought his considerable bulk to his feet. He glared at the troop of merrymakers, his six foot seven frame inspiring a sudden hush.
He jerked his glass from the bar and wandered off toward the stairs leading down into the bar’s lower level, a place reserved for the evening crowd, where evening bands could play, dancers could dance, and laughers could laugh. But at midday, the lower level was a dark solitary retreat, a place he retreated to often these days.
The chairs were placed atop the tables to make room for the previous evening's cleanup. He wandered into the darkest corner, pulled a chair off a table, and sat down.
He sat alone in the gloom, listening to the muffled laughter still emanating from the bar upstairs.
Sylvia, the bar maid, moved to his table. He knew she'd eventually show. She had taken a liking to the big man; it was only too obvious. She was older, and each day a little more terrified of being alone. He was nice to her once. He shouldn’t have been. If she knew who he really was, her little crush would vanish like a fool’s money.
The big man glanced up at her. "Sylvia, I’d like to be alone if you don’t mind."
"Just thought you might want another beer," Sylvia said. "That’s what I do, you know."
The big man glanced down at his beer and back up at Sylvia. "It’s still half full."
Sylvia studied him for a moment, pulled a chair off the table and sat down.
The big man sighed, took a long drink from his beer and put it back on the table.
They sat in silence for a time before Sylvia finally spoke up. "You pissed at me?"
"Of course not," the big man said. "Why would I be pissed at you?"
"I don’t know. You stopped talking to me. You won’t even look at me."
"I’m sorry I may have led you on," the big man said. "I shouldn’t have—"
"Don’t apologize," she said, obviously irritated. "Stop apologizing for that night. It was a great night so…quit apologizing. It's not like we had sex or anything."
"That's because I'm gay," the big man said softly.
Sylvia sighed, glanced around at the upended chairs and looked back at the big man."I'm in no mood for jokes."
>
They sat together listening to the revelry still echoing from upstairs.
After a time she stood, tossed a towel over her arm and gestured towards the newly emptied beer glass sitting in front of the big man. "I’ll get you another one," she said as she turned and made her way towards the stairs.
She returned carrying a fresh glass of beer, placed it in front of him, pulled the towel out from under her arm and inadvertently spilled a magazine out on the table. She pushed it aside, quickly pulled the rest of the chairs off the table and proceeded to wipe the table down. Finally she pulled a matchbook out of her apron and lit the candle that sat in the middle of the table. A soft golden light lit their faces.
"I’m off," she said. "I’m miserable and misery loves company." She returned to her chair and looked across at the big man.
The big man scowled. "Why can’t I just be alone?"
"Because, I want to work this out or at least try and understand it. Why are you so sullen all the time? What happened to you, Blaze?"
"It has nothing to do with you," Blaze said. "Why do you always think—"
Without warning the big man lurched forward, snatched the magazine off the table and sat staring at it. "Sylvia!" he breathed. "What…what is this? Where did you get this?"
The waitress pulled back. "What, the magazine?"
Blaze yanked the magazine closer to the candle trying to get a better look. There on the cover, a beautiful woman looked back at him; her familiar emerald green eyes flashing; her raven hair gently falling from beneath the hood of a heavy winter coat.
"It’s the Ricky girl," Sylvia said. "She’s a big deal in Europe. Some photographer was taking pictures of Rickies and—"
"Holy hell!" Blaze said, interrupting Sylvia mid-sentence. "It’s Maria!"
~~~
Dr. James Marcus Donahue sat staring into a widescreen computer monitor. This was his third confirmation. What he was looking at was real… beyond doubt. Yet, he knew… it couldn’t be. Things like this only happen in bad movies, once in a millennium, a simple mistake, a slip up, a magnificent fortuitous stumble into scientific immortality.
If it was true, and apparently it was, humanity had suddenly taken a leap of unimaginable proportions. It would mean another Nobel Prize. Hell, it would mean his name would be synonymous with that of Galileo, Newton, Einstein, and Hawking.
He instinctively looked over his notes once again, checked and re-checked the scanning electronic microscope for signs of malfunction. He had to be certain. Indisputably certain.
The papers, he thought. What did he do with them? He needed to publish, immediately. He couldn’t publish without the damn papers!
He pushed from his seat and quickly moved to the drawer. He was reasonably certain he had left the papers in the drawer.
"Dr. Donahue?"
Jim glanced up to see a student looking at him.
"What…WHAT?"
"Dr. Donahue, you have a phone call."
"Not now!"
"He says it’s urgent.”
"Who says…who says it’s urgent?"
"A Mr. Mark Binghamton."
"Bing? What could he want?"
"I don’t know, sir.”
"Oh man!" Donahue groaned. "Listen, do me a favor. I put papers in one of these drawers. See if you can find them. They’ll look…new, oh never mind!"
He stood and moved to the small lab office space and lifted the phone to his ear. "Bing!" he shouted, trying not to sound anxious. "What is the honorable ex-mayor of Nashville Tennessee up to these days?”
"Jim, so good to get in touch with you. We’ve been looking. We’re finally tracking everyone down. After the day, everyone just scattered."
"Is Blaze with you?" Jim asked. "I haven’t heard from him."
"No. Blaze sort of… fell apart at the end. We think he’s still in America…maybe still in Nashville, but he hasn’t surfaced."
"He was really into that Vinces project," Jim said. "I’m sure he took it hard when it all fell apart. He’s always been a man who jumps in."
"We heard you were in Germany," Bing said, changing the subject.
"Yeah," Jim answered. "Paul Stony and I caught an old bi-wing crop duster. We hopped all the way cross-country to Phoenix, Arizona, then on to Wyoming. What a run that was! From Wyoming we caught a transport to Germany and ended up hiding out in a government bomb shelter in the cliffs of the Ahr River valley, near the German city of Bonn. We watched the whole thing play out on computer monitors. But you know, as good as it is to hear from you, I’m sort of slammed here. Could I get your number and get right back with you—"
"To be honest, Jim," Bing interrrupted, "this isn’t a social call. Something very important has come up. It has to do with the Vinces project."
"I thought that was over."
"So did we, but there has been an interesting twist."
"A twist?"
"Yes. You knew the surrogate quite well didn’t you?"
"Maria? Yeah, I did. What a sad story that was. The news of her death hit me pretty hard."
"She’s not dead."
"Maria’s not dead?"
"She’s surfaced. We think she’s in the western states of old America, probably Utah."
"Maria’s not dead? What do you mean she’s surfaced?"
"Her photograph turned up on the cover of a popular magazine. They’re calling her the Ricky girl."
"I’ve heard of the Ricky girl…that’s Maria?"
"You two were pretty good friends, weren’t you?"
"Well," Jim said hesitantly, "yeah I suppose…less than I had hoped. The one you need to talk to is Blaze. He actually married her and Todd… any news on Todd?"
"You mean the husband?"
"Yeah, Todd Riley."
"Think he died in…. We think he died."
"Hmm, terrible thing—"
"We need for you to try and make contact with the surrogate."
"What?"
"The Vinces are determined to reconnect with her and take possession of the child… if it survived."
"Take possession of the child? Wait a minute… there really is a child?"
"The project cost a fortune, Jim. They have a considerable investment here—"
"Did you say, if it survived? Did you just call this child an ‘it’?"
"Come on, Jim, let’s not be naive. What did you think would happen? Did you think we would just forget it and let them go about their merry way?"
"You know what I thought would happen!" Jim yelled. "I told you what was going to happen. I warned you people about the ethical morass you were getting yourselves into."
"Now wait a minute, Jim!" Bing said. "You were a large part of this project. Without you it probably couldn’t have moved forward. You may have had ethical reservations, but as I recall you went ahead anyway."
"I was told to go ahead with the project. I had no choice in the matter!"
"I don’t remember anyone breaking your fingers—"
"No, he nearly blew me out my hotel window, along with everything else in the room."
Bing hesitated and asked, "What are you talking about? Who blew you out a window?"
"You people wouldn’t know who nearly blew me out the window, but let me tell you, he’s pretty persuasive. If you mess with his son you’re gonna find out pretty damn tout de suite!"
"His son? Jim, are you okay?"
"Look… what is it you want from me? As I said, I’m very busy here. You’re the all powerful, all rich Vinces. Why not simply go get the child? Even if Maria could be found — and she obviously doesn’t want to be — what in God’s name do you think I could say to her to convince her to let you people take possession of her child?"
"You only need to locate her. She’s in Mums’ territory. They wouldn’t suspect a Nobel laureate—"
"No, NO!" Jim shouted, "hell no! If you think I’m going to help you bastards harass that little family, you’re out of your mind—"
"We can make your career disappear,"
Bing interrupted. "We could claim plagiarism and have your Nobel repealed. You have no idea what we are capable of."
Jim went silent for a moment. "If you people are capable of so much," he said finally, "why don’t you simply go to Utah and take possession of your property?"
"Usually, a full frontal attack is…unwise. It’s better if we—"
"Yes," Jim interrupted, "unwise, because Hatfield will reject your claim to the property. He’ll think your property is a child, that your surrogate is a defenseless young mother. Unwise, because when you try and strong arm her, the Mums will have your carcasses hanging from the trees!"
"That’s a little dramatic, Jim," Bing said. "The Mums couldn’t possibly know who the child is. If we go in small, we could abduct the child under the cover—"
"God damn you people!" Jim screamed, unable to control his boiling anger. "God damn you people to hell!"
"I can see this conversation has come to an end," Bing said. We’ll be in touch."
The phone went dead.
Chapter_Nine
Two Months Later
Even though the house was much larger, Maria found that at times she still missed her little cabin in the mountains. The cabin had been the only place she had ever felt at home. The avalanche had created an irreparable amount of damage, and there were fears of more disasters as the snowpack continued to pile up on the mountain peaks overlooking Parktown. The pack of wolves had apparently left the area, but fear for the children’s’ safety had remained. More importantly, even though there had been no locally reported cases since Hanna’s, there was the ever present horror of CreutzJake. For those reasons, Gladys had recommended the town relocate and President Hatfield had provided the resources. The entire group had been displaced to a suburb south of Salt Lake, called White City.
White City was a tightly-knit community of sixty year old neighborhoods, split into two sections by a cavernous fifty-foot deep gully originating in the foothills of the looming Wasatch Mountains.
Todd and Maria were given a single story, three bedroomed house on a winding road bordering the gully: the aptly named Serpentine Way. The Wheelers lived in the house to the east. Gladys and Louis Fasbender had been relocated to a high rise hotel in the city.
The Son of Man 2, Elders of Zion Page 19
