The current information I have on my mother is nothing more than an obituary and a grainy photograph with blurred-out features.
Bonnie Smith, age 28. Described by those who knew her as a dedicated worker within the Division factory, with a quiet nature and soft disposition. There will be no funeral arrangements.
The remains shall be buried at the north side of the Division burial grounds.
I have every word memorized. Each letter stitched into my brain. I remember reading it the first time as a thirteen-year-old boy. I felt unwanted and alone in foster housing, along with the other children whose parents had either been deceased or who had tossed them aside. There were no distant family members waiting to come scoop me up and rescue me. I never even made it into my mother’s obituary. I’ll never know who my father is, I’ll never have the stern yet gentle presence of a grandmother, no brothers or sisters to share childhood memories with. I don’t know if Bonnie Smith even breathed a word of my existence to anyone. I’m a ghost. The only proof she was the woman who bore me in her womb comes from the old woman who ran the orphanage.
By her recollection, on a cool October night a man knocked on the door and placed me in her arms. “This boy belongs to Bonnie Smith. She is deceased. His name is Traveler,” he had said. Then he crept back into the night the same way he came. Who the man was, I’ll never know that either. Her death was investigated and ruled accidental. She died alone in her home during childbirth.
Arden’s dimly lit home stands before me, looking more like Pandora’s box than my mentor’s residence. It is a one-story brick house sandwiched in between others that mirror its landscaping and decor. These homes were thrown together after the rebirth of civilization and the start of our new existence on the planet. I make my way up the steps to the dark front door and slide the key in the lock, twisting it, and feeling the soft thunk of the metal tightening its grasp on the key.
Pausing in the entryway, I let my eyes wander. Arden’s personal space is obviously tainted by years of living as a bachelor. He is clean, meticulous and tidy; however, the essence of a woman’s touch around the home is lacking. He doesn’t speak of it, but he prefers it that way. He has a single brown leather couch in the living area, and a matching recliner perched underneath a floor lamp.
Rows of stocked bookshelves line the walls. I walk into his bare kitchen and turn on the light, searching through the cabinets until I find his drinking glasses and fill one with water from the tap. My mouth is dry, and there is a slight shake of my fingers. What secrets has he been keeping locked away in his desk?
I set the cup on the counter and make my way down the hallway, passing his bedroom. The bed is lying neatly made and untouched.
His home office is across the hallway and I step in, leaving the light turned off and settle for the small desk lamp. I pull the bottom desk drawer out and locate the files Arden said would be there, and underneath, hidden away from the world, is the metal box.
I ease it out and set the box on top of the desk and waste no time opening the lid to see what awaits inside. On top of a stack of books is a photograph, one that I’ve never seen before.
There are several people, young, standing in the courtyard outside of the Shifting Division, smiling at the camera. Some of them have their arms draped across each other’s shoulders. I realize it’s a former class on pinning day. Once an agent completes one of the three Shifting courses, there is a pinning ceremony. Each course has a different pin, and these agents are wearing the Herding symbol, a silvery image of the Andromeda constellation.
It doesn’t take long to find what I believe is my mother’s face among the agents, although it appears different it some way. She’s beaming, and her eyes are fixated on me, her grin holding so much joy. I sense familiarity in her face. She looks happy, her personality is beaming out of the photograph, and instantly sends a rush of warmth through my veins. I run my finger over the picture. She wasn’t quiet-natured, and she wasn’t a seamstress. She was something much more. This photograph is holding so much more life compared to the blurry, dead-eyed shot of her I’ve clung to for so many years. Anyone who laid their eyes on this picture could see how she stands out from the rest. I look beside her and realize that I would recognize him anywhere. Arden’s small eyes and tiny frame, standing beside my mother, wearing the same pin. He not only knew her, he went through the entire program with her.
I set the photograph aside and move to the first book in a stack of two. I open the rough, leathery cover and see a delicate loopy signature scrolled across the page “Jaqueline Romanoso,” I say out loud as I read it. I fan the pages of the book and see the same handwriting splattered across every page of her journal. I stop at a page two-thirds of the way in that is slightly more worn than the others.
I’ve made a mistake. Something
that could forever change the path
I have been traveling down for so many
years now. It felt inevitable. His face was
too kind, his love too unconditional.
I am in love. It is unalterable, irrevocable,
and infinite. A love so written in the stars,
not even the full force of the universe’s
gravity could have pulled me away. But
death I cannot conquer. Yet even in
death he lives inside of me. His child a
forever reminder that love is timeless.
And our son will live.
My hands are shaking, and I find the room suddenly too warm for the jacket sticking to my shoulders. I rip it off and sling it forcefully across the room and watch it collide with the wall where it slides down to the floor. Everything I believed I was: unwanted, a mistake, trash, it’s all a lie. And Arden knew it. He’s always known.
I flip the journal to the last page and continue reading.
I’ve successfully hidden his existence
for as long as possible. My belly no
longer concealed under loose clothing
and my pregnancy now reaching the
end. Yet they will not know. They will not
take this. The plan is set. I will protect
my child.
I pick up the next journal and find that only the first page is completed.
My Dearest Traveler:
I know this comes as a shock to you.
Everything we have done has been to
keep you safe. It has been to keep you
alive. It is because my love for you is
what matters the most. If you are
reading this, then Arden has kept his
promise to be with you. To look out
for you and protect you. I do not doubt
that you have had a difficult life.
Please know, my son, that leaving you
in foster housing was the most difficult
choice I’ve ever had to make. But it
was the choice that kept you hidden
and alive. I have loved you from the
moment I knew you were with me. And
I love you still. Put your trust in Arden.
He will not steer you in the wrong
direction. What he tells you is true. I
know we will be reunited soon. It is the
moment I’ve dreamed of since I placed
you in Arden’s arms. Since the
moment I had to leave you. I’m sorry,
my son.
My mother, whoever she is, is alive. And Arden has known for twenty-seven years. Who and what am I being protected from? What was she so terrified of that drove her to abandon her child? Everything I’ve thought about myself, and everything I’ve thought about the only people in this world I know, has been doused in dishonesty…and I intend to uncover every last fiber of truth.
Chapter Twelve
Johanna
There’s a delay. The Shifting wrapped in Traveler’s arms, with his lips devoted to mine, was instantaneous. I felt nothing except the bliss of being kissed by a ma
n. There wasn’t a moment that I was in limbo, or aware of the happenings going on around me. With Arden, I feel everything. My entire being is ripped apart and stitched together again. The electricity is too hot, and there is an uncomfortable tug inside my brain. I hate it.
Finally, the patch of grass Traveler and I were standing on last night is firm under my feet. Arden places his hand on my back to steady me. “You appear intact.” He looks me over.
“Yes. I’m fine.” I’m unsure of how I feel around him without Traveler.
“Traveler is very talented with his shifting. It’s okay to admit the process was much more traumatic this go around.” Though his expression remains kind, I can’t genuinely return it.
“Why couldn’t he bring me back then? You couldn’t give us that?” I ask, looking him in the eye, wanting an explanation.
Arden shakes his head and walks over to the bluff, taking in the view. “Because Johanna, he is in love with you.” He looks back at me with a knowing smile.
I feel the heat flush my cheeks at his words. “We barely know one another.”
“When I saw you, I fell in love. And you smiled, because you knew. William Shakespeare.” He recites the line in a sing-song voice. “The way Traveler looks at you, he is falling in love with you. If not already there,” he says the last part as if there isn’t an ounce of doubt in his mind. “Even though he tried to convince me otherwise.”
“And if what you say is true, then why? Why couldn’t he come here with me? I wouldn’t hurt him. I wouldn’t get him in trouble.”
“Because it’s for his own good. Traveler’s love for you is so fresh and green even he doesn’t know the depths of hell that he would go to, to keep you safe. And him loving you, is never and can never be safe.” It comes out as a warning and said with so much sincerity and finality that tears threaten to breach the corners of my eyes.
“I don’t understand.” I swat at my arm, squashing a mosquito feasting on my blood. “Why?”
“He lied to me. And about his feelings for you.”
“That’s why? Your feelings are hurt because he told you a fib? Get over yourself, Arden.” Blood rushes to my face, and my eyes lock onto him.
He returns my anger with a smile. He isn’t arrogant, and he isn’t proud. Every mannerism, and every word Arden speaks, seems to hold importance. No wonder Traveler trusts and respects him so much. “No, Johanna. It was to keep him alive.” A wave of concern washes over my heart. Arden seems to register my emotion and continues. “He has told you about his capabilities? His extreme talent in shifting?”
“He said he was good at his job. That he shouldn’t have been able to herd me,” I reply, realizing that Traveler may have been being modest.
Arden’s small chuckle causes his shoulders to shake. “Six years. That’s how long it takes to even make it into the Herding program. To even be able to train.” Arden claps his hands in front of him. “Traveler herded you with zero training, not an ounce of knowledge on the subject, and with a simple kiss. Tell me, what did you feel?”
“Nothing. I closed my eyes one moment, and the next I was in Andromeda.”
“And when I was Shifting with you, essentially reversed Herding, tell me how that felt?”
“Awful, hot, a lot of pressure and tugging, lengthy,” I admit, throwing the words at him.
“I not only completed the Herding Program, but I was an agent with them for twenty-five years. And now I am an instructor for Observation only because I turned the job down as a Herding instructor after retirement,” he confesses, not boastfully, but strictly to prove his point. “For anyone else other than Traveler, I’m as good as it gets. And with him you felt nothing. And that was his first time. Even Traveler is clueless as to his abilities.” He’s looking off in the distance, as though he is seeing something else. A memory perhaps.
“I wouldn’t have told,” I mutter, at a loss for words but wanting to snap his attention back to me.
“No, because you’re falling in love with him too. I know you wouldn’t cause him harm. And for that, I am forever grateful to you. But it has to end. The longer it continues, the harder it will be to stay away. And eventually, Traveler will use his capabilities too carelessly to satisfy his feelings for you, and he will be discovered. And it will be too late. He will be sentenced to life in prison or worse. I know. I’ve seen it happen before.” His cold words are drowning me. And this time my tears come. They dampen my cheeks as I stare back at Arden who is full of sorrow and pity.
“I’m sorry, Johanna. Can I still count on your discretion?” he asks of me, while looking at the glowing numbers on his wrists. The same clock Traveler keeps.
“Yes.” The word barely claws its way up my throat.
“I have revealed some information to Traveler about his mother. I am hoping it is enough to keep him grounded. That it is sufficient evidence as to why he can no longer be reckless. Sorrowfully, I hope it’s enough to keep him away from you as well.” My brows crease in reaction to his words, and Arden takes notice. “I assure you, I have been preparing a long time for these revelations. I will make sure he is okay. You have my word I will tend well to him.” He promises me something that I was too afraid to ask for, a misplaced request on my part. I nod my head once and look away from him.
“I’m afraid my time here has expired. Goodbye, Johanna. Do take care.” He smiles sadly before the blue light envelopes him entirely and takes him away.
I don’t know how to process everything I’ve been told, all the things I’ve been clued in on about the world I live in. I don’t know how to just go back to living a normal life, not after all of this. Could Arden be right? Could I be falling in love with Traveler? Does it even matter at this point?
I wipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks and make my way toward the woods and back to my Jeep. It sits untouched and as I left it. There aren’t any houses or people residing on this side of the mountain. It is mostly used as hunting land during deer and turkey seasons, and the rest of the year it sits in solitude.
I climb into the Jeep, unstrap my purse that is laying across my body, and pull out my keys. I start the ignition, my two hands griping the wheel so hard my knuckles begin turning white. I don’t even know what I want. I want Traveler; I want him to come back for me like he promised. But I also want him alive, and that means he has to forget about me entirely. Again, hopelessness settles into my chest as I pull off the shoulder and onto the isolated road, heading back home.
****
The streets are virtually empty, as is expected for a small southern town on a Sunday morning. I have the urge to whip my Jeep into the Baptist parking lot and say a prayer that Andrew and Mary-Beth didn’t notice my car still missing from the garage, before they headed off to church themselves. I don’t have the energy for a fight, but my instincts, and then the image of Andrew sitting on the front porch steps with his head buried in his hands as I pull into the long driveway, tells me I’d better get ready for one.
He hears my tires crushing the gravel as I pull in, and his head pops up so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t take off rolling down the driveway to meet me. He’s on his feet and calling into the house, before he jumps off the porch and takes off running. He’s at my car within seconds, and I barely have time to hit the brakes and sling the gear into park before my door flies open and he pulls me out. His big arms engulf my entire body as he smothers me to his chest.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Andrew,” I say, rolling my eyes. Not that he can see my face still crushed to his torso. “You’re ridiculous.” I try to push away from him, but he only pulls me in tighter.
“Jesus Christ, Jo. I thought that…Why didn’t you call or text? How could you do that to me?” He isn’t yelling, but his tone instantly makes me regret mine.
“Mph furn dwiph,” I try to say, but I can’t move my face and all the oxygen is leaving my brain, and my cheeks begin tingling. I slap at his strong arms to let me go. “Too tight! Geez. My phone died!” I pull a large gu
lp of air into my lungs, and smooth my hair back down, staring at him. He looks terrible.
“I was searching all night for you. And this morning. Where did you go?”
“Are you serious, Andrew? Like this isn’t embarrassing enough. I’m twenty-four!” Please take the hint and let this go.
He stares back at me, completely shocked and seeming as though he wants to do nothing more than crawl in a hole and die at this very moment.
“You don’t know that guy. You aren’t like this, Jo. You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. Jesus, what is going on with you?” he asks with an expression of accusation on his face he’s never worn before.
“Excuse me? Look Andrew, I’m sorry I made you worry. But I have done nothing wrong here. Had my phone been in working condition, I would have sent MB a text. Not that I should have to. But only so you don’t go all big brother cop and stomp all over town searching for me. And trust me, you didn’t want to find me last night! I’m a grown woman, Andrew.”
He shakes his head, glancing everywhere but at me. “You aren’t yourself lately, Jo. First the woods, and then passing out at the football game. And then…” he trails off, turning to the side as if he’s deciding something.
“And then what, Andrew? Go on.” I challenge him, my hands finding my hips so that I don’t take a swing at him.
“Katie said you had that man, practically a stranger, in our house. And you answered the door in your robe. A man you were seconds away from pressing charges against for stealing your wallet, might I remind you.” His brow is furrowed, and his chest puffed out.
“Katie? Well, if Katie said, then by all means, I must be running a prostitution ring in our deceased parents’ house, right? Or hell, if all-knowing Katie blabbed about what she must have seen, then maybe I was cooking up meth with criminals in the kitchen with Mama’s old cast iron skillet. Is that it? Or maybe what precious Katie saw was a man, arriving early, to pick me up for a date!” I screech back at him, my voice echoing off the oak tree. I take off, stomping toward the house, seeing red and ready to tear into someone. “Of all the nerve!” I shout to no one in particular.
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