Zaidee nodded, a smug look on her face. “What did I tell you? You’re the one who makes him smile.”
Kat was grinning. “That’ll show her. She can’t have everything she wants.”
Dani had to admit, she missed the easy camaraderie she’d had with Lexil. She missed meeting his eyes and seeing there the promise of something more. Why had she run from him? She let herself dream, just for a minute, of a future with this man whose mind and heart she loved. But it wasn’t his mind or heart that had stirred up these feelings. It was his touch. She closed her eyes to savor it again.
And then the old reticence came back. Scenes of failed relationships paraded through her mind: the humiliating breakup with Jhon Rhys in college, the abrupt cold shoulder from Cray Sanders in eleventh grade, even Shawna, the friend who ended up turning on her and spreading horrible rumors the next year. She knew it was a character flaw, but she couldn’t face opening herself up to the risks of a deep relationship. Not again. It wasn’t Lexil’s fault; it was hers.
It wasn’t right to let Kat keep thinking it could work, when Dani knew with utter conviction that she’d never go through with it.
She looked up to see Zaidee putting on her coat, getting ready to leave. Good. That would give her time to talk to Kat, to let her know.
Zaidee gave her a hug. “I’ve got some errands to run in town. I’m glad to see you feeling better. Give some thought to coming back to us, will you?”
Dani nodded. She’d give it some thought, even though she knew it wouldn’t change anything.
As soon as Zaidee left, she turned to Kat. “I need to tell you something.”
“What, you need some pillows adjusted?”
“No, nothing like that. And I don’t really know how to say this without sounding ungrateful.”
“As if that mattered even the slightest bit. You don’t need to filter what you say to me. You know that.”
That was true. “I’ve been misleading you, I think.”
“Oh? How?”
“Every time I tell you about something I’ve done with Lexil, I’ve been letting you think I’m interested in, uh, getting involved with him.”
“You’re already involved with him. Have been since June, when you went to work for him.”
“I know. But I mean, more exclusive than that. Becoming a couple.”
“You’re a couple of silly guppies, that’s what you are. You’re meant to be together, and everyone but you—and apparently Althea—can see it.”
“Except it’s not up to everyone. It’s up to us.”
“What are you saying?” Kat pulled her chair closer and studied Dani’s face.
Dani sighed. How could she put this? “I’ve had…trouble, I guess you could say…with relationships. Ever since I was a teenager, every time I choose to trust someone with my heart—that sounds corny, but you know what I mean—I get hurt or worse. Humiliated. I’ve decided I’m happier single, and I don’t want you to push me into a relationship with Lexil.”
Kat looked at her skeptically, her mouth pursed and twisted to the side.
“I know, I know. I’ve been liking the attention, and I’ve led you to believe that was what I wanted. You’ve had every right to encourage it. That’s why I wanted you to know. I wanted to tell you directly. I don’t want to be ‘with’ Lexil. I’m not sure I’ll even want to go back to working with him.”
“Oh, poppycock.”
The word made Dani laugh, despite herself. But Kat’s next words weren’t funny at all.
“You don’t know what you want, Danarin Adams. You have no clue. You’re scared of commitment, so you’re making it sound noble to reject the idea. But really you’re just afraid. And if you were being honest, you’d admit it.”
Dani’s mouth tightened. Who was Kat to tell her what she was feeling? She could be so exasperating sometimes.
She could also be very perceptive. “Sorry to be so blunt. Still love me?”
Dani didn’t want to answer that. She contemplated pretending fatigue and asking Kat to leave. Finally, she sighed. “Loving you has nothing to do with it. I shared something important to me and you dismissed it without even considering it. I think I know what I’m feeling better than you do.”
Kat raised one eyebrow and waited.
“I’m not afraid. I just know what always happens.”
“Always? How many times is ‘always’?”
“You want me to list them? No. Just every single time. One relationship in college, and two others that I didn’t let get that far. A couple of guys in high school, back when I was younger and still believed things could work out. A best friend that turned out to not be a friend at all.”
“And yet you haven’t run from being my friend.”
“You’re different.”
“Maybe he’s different too?”
“No. Just no. Stop pushing me, Kat. I meant what I said.”
Kat held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, I give up. It’s your choice if you want to close yourself off.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And if I accept that—and because we are friends—can you tell me when you first started being afraid—”
Dani slammed her hand on the bed and winced. “I’m not afraid.”
“—okay, let’s say ‘wary’—of trusting people? Were you like this as a child?”
Brow furrowed, Dani considered this. She couldn’t remember being afraid of anything as a child. She knew, from stories, that she had been a climber as a toddler. Furniture, ladders, rocks, shelves. When she was older, she had graduated to skis, skates, and boards. Water or snow, it didn’t matter. She was willing to try anything once, and her dad’s position as salesman and trainer for the Devine Corp. had provided access to equipment and courses. She smiled, remembering how proud he was of his “daredevil daughter.” He had loved bringing her to work, showing her off to customers who were timid about trying a new sport. “If my six-year-old can do it, you can do it.” And they always laughed at their own fear, and they always bought whatever he was offering.
“I was fearless as a child. My dad loved that about me.”
“Ah. And your dad left you, if I remember that correctly.”
Yes. Dani wished she hadn’t been so oblivious as a teenager. She wished she had understood that her dad had changed after the accident, that it wasn’t just a reluctance to hear certain news stories. “I don’t want to see that” had turned into “Don’t go outside today until I get home.” She remembered how he was always looking over his shoulder as if someone were following him. She remembered a late night conversation with her mom, whispered, so she only heard a few words through her open door. Words from her dad: “For your safety.” Words from her mom: “You can’t go. What will it do to Dani?”
When her mom said that, Dani had opened the door wide and run down the hall. “Daddy! Don’t go!”
Her father had stood there, mutely, letting her hug him, patting her back. Her mom had finally pulled her off, telling her everything would be fine, urging her back to bed.
And the next day, he was gone.
She dabbed at her eyes with the bedsheets.
“Sorry, Dani. That hit a nerve, I can tell. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. That was years ago.”
“Is that when it started?”
“You’re probably right. If you can’t trust your own father to stay, to keep loving you, how can you trust anyone else?”
“Do you know why he left?”
Dani shook her head. She had never found out the reason, no matter how many times she demanded it from her mother. Looking back, as an adult, she wasn’t even sure her mom knew why. Whatever the reason, it sure didn’t seem to bother her the way it bothered Dani.
“It doesn’t matter. He left. He’s probably got a whole new life. Maybe he loves someone else’s kids.”
“It obviously does matter. Seems to me you need to find out what happened. Get some adult perspective on the whole thing. Un
derstand things the way you couldn’t when you were a teenager. Don’t you still talk to your mom sometimes?”
“Yeah, but she’s always in a rush to go do some civic thing. And I don’t think she knows why he left either.”
“Have you even told her you’re here?”
“I guess I should do that.”
“Yes, you should. And ask her some of those questions. You need to get your head straight. There’s no reason to shut the door on Lexil because of something your father did.”
“Well, it’s not because of my dad. Lexil was the one who kissed me.”
“Which you hated, I suppose?”
“No…no, I kind of loved it, actually. Until I didn’t.”
Kat gave an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, but you really need to get this sorted out. Talk to Lexil. Tell him you’re working some things out. Don’t reject him just because you’re confused. He’ll give you time. I’m sure of it.”
Dani hedged. “I don’t know.” It was easier to just ignore the whole thing. Kat was meddling, but she was probably right. “I’ll think about it.”
Kat rolled her eyes. “You’ll be out of here in a few days. Better think fast.”
“I promise. Can we talk about something else, please?”
Her friend laughed. “Sure. Didn’t mean to make you squirm. Uh, have I told you Marak’s making progress on getting Royce released?”
“Good. Maybe you won’t have to worry about the bag you found after all.”
Kat’s face clouded over. “No, I still have to worry about that. And it’s worse now. Uncle Royce told me some of the records aren’t true. He wants me to hold on to those, not turn them over. But I don’t know if I trust him. What if he wants to use them for blackmail again?”
“That’s a hard decision. If he’s telling the truth, you sure don’t want to implicate people if they didn’t do anything.”
“But how could chronography records be false?”
Dani’s mind flipped into scholar mode. She had taught a group of undergraduates about this question. “They can’t. Or, well, the actual events we see or hear happened for sure. You can’t fake that. But sometimes things look different to observers because we don’t have any background information. For example, if you see someone knocking another person down, is it assault? Or is the first person defending himself? Or maybe defending a third person who is out of our field of vision?”
“I see. Someone could be walking out of a store with an item, and you can’t tell with chronography whether they paid for it or not.”
“Right. And there might be a record of someone talking about a crime, but it’s not admissible as evidence because we don’t know if they’re lying about the details. Or they could believe it, but they might be wrong.”
“So it’s not as easy as it looks.”
“No. Observation is important, but it’s the right perspective that gives us evidence and helps us draw conclusions.”
Kat nodded. But she was still frowning, and Dani knew she was still wrestling with whether to turn the bag over or not.
“I just don’t know what to do. What would you do?”
“I don’t know. I think I’d probably look at the records in question and see if I could figure out which might not be true.”
Kat shuddered. “I don’t think I can do that. They feel…dirty.”
“I have to look at ‘dirty’ things all the time. It’s how we help the police solve crimes. Some things are private, but irrelevant, and I just forget them.”
“Why don’t you just get well and come and look at them for me?”
Dani laughed. “Maybe. We’ll see how long this takes. Maybe your uncle will be released before I am.”
“You know what’s weird? He doesn’t even want to get out of there. But he’s really convinced it will hurt the timestream if he stays.”
“Yeah, sure seemed like it, when we looked that up, back in the lab.”
“Oh, back when you were still working with Lexil?”
“You had to bring that up? Don’t you have someplace you need to be?”
Later, after Kat had left, Dani put through a call to her mom.
“Dani! What a nice surprise. Twice in one week. Is everything okay?”
“Hi Mom. Actually, not okay. I fell down an anti-grav tube and hit bottom kind of hard.”
“How can you fall down an anti-grav tube? Isn’t that something of an oxymoron?” She added, almost as an afterthought, “How badly were you hurt?”
“I guess there was some sabotage or something. I have a new friend, and she has had some threats. She had a bodyguard, but he couldn’t stop this. I survived, obviously.”
“That’s terrible! I mean about the sabotage, not about you surviving.”
Dani laughed. “Ow. Laughing hurts. I’m in the hospital. Had some shattered bones and stuff. They’re mending me.”
“I’ll set up a holo-visit.”
“Don’t be silly, Mom. Those are expensive. You could fly out here for less.”
“I suppose I could. I’ll see if I can cancel my meetings.”
“By the time you got here, I’d probably be released. Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to let you know. Hear your voice.”
“That’s…sweet. Did you really miss me?”
Dani hadn’t missed her, until this moment. But now old memories surfaced and she felt suddenly nostalgic. “Remember that time I got sick and you made me creamed chipped beef over toast?”
“Yes. I told you it was something my mom used to make for me.”
“I loved that. And lemonade with a straw.”
“To keep you hydrated. You were so hot with that fever. Your dad was beside himself with worry, but he didn’t want to let you know.”
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did he leave? It was all so mysterious when I was a teenager. Do you know why? Can you tell me anything now that you couldn’t then?”
There was nothing but silence on the other end of the connexion. She might have lost the link for some reason, but the light on Dani’s eyescreen was still green. She waited.
Finally, her mom spoke. “He didn’t want to go.”
That didn’t help. “If he didn’t want to go, why hasn’t he found his way back to us? Or at least to you. He probably has no idea where I live.”
“Your father is resourceful. He probably knows more than you think.”
“Mom, do you even know if he’s still alive? How can you make a statement like that?”
“Yes, he’s still alive.”
A suspicion crossed Dani’s mind. Could it be? “Have you been in touch with him since he left?”
Silence again.
“Mom! If you know something, please tell me.”
Her mom sighed. “Yes. Yes, we’ve been in touch a few times.”
That hurt. “Why? Why didn’t he get in touch with me, then? Does he have another family now?”
“Oh, Dani! He wants to. But you have to understand: His life has been more-or-less continuously threatened. We were threatened. The only way he has been able to contact me was with a code we worked out before he left. And the only way he could keep us safe was to leave. And no, he doesn’t have another family.”
“What if I don’t want to be safe? What if I’d rather have my dad?”
“It’s not up to you.”
“Who, then? Is it up to you?”
“No. I’ve tried to convince him to come back, honey. He’s adamant. He will not put us in danger. And I’m not even sure how much danger there is, any more. But he thinks there is.”
“How do you communicate? Can I talk to him?”
“I wish I could tell you.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I know that, sweetie. But not over a connexion. I probably shouldn’t have even told you that we were in touch. Your father has warned me against all of that. He doesn’t want us associated with
him at all, in any traceable way.”
Dani clenched her fists. If she could, she’d make him talk to her. She’d find a way to go to him, wherever he was. She’d insist on answers, on facing this thing together, whatever it was. But there was no way to find him unless her mother would help. And it was possible her mother couldn’t help her anyway.
“If I came to see you, would you tell me?”
“If…Can you even travel, Dani? You’re in a hospital. How badly were you hurt?”
She hadn’t asked anyone about travel. “I don’t know. I’m stuck here for a few days, at least.”
“And there might be limitations on what you can do after that.”
“Yes. There might. I can ask. But I’d find a way to come.”
“Let me check something.”
Dani heard her mom walk across a tile floor, her heels clicking on the surface in a familiar rhythm. That would be the kitchen.
“Calendar,” she said. “Appointments and meetings.”
Dani waited. She had discouraged her mom from coming to see her earlier, but if it meant answers to her questions, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass.
“I’m going to come see you. Because yes, there is something I need to tell you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Paternity
COTTAGE #5, Blake Island, WA. 1020, Sunday, September 17, 2215.
The prisoner paced the perimeter of the tiny cabin, following the walls in and out of each room. There was nowhere he could go to escape the viewwalls installed in all the rooms. His captor’s eyes could follow him from the bedroom to the main room and even to the bathroom. He had no way of knowing when the man was watching him and when he was gone somewhere else, except when his image showed on the wall, as it did now. The prisoner’s eyes burned from too little sleep, and his head ached. He was beyond exhausted. The pacing was as much to keep himself awake as to stretch his legs.
In his peripheral vision, the viewwall flickered to life. He turned toward it, resigned to facing another litany of his offenses. “Why don’t you just leave me alone? You say the same thing, over and over, day after day.”
“Now you know what I’ve had to live with, every day since it happened.”
A Chronetic Perspective (The Chronography Records Book 2) Page 17