“I can’t leave Roman.”
Russ sighed. “The game has changed, Brina. I didn’t see this coming, and I sure as hell know Mathew didn’t. If you want to ride it out, just know what you’re getting into.”
“How serious would it be if the world knew about Roman?”
“For you and me?” Russ thought for a moment. “Edward has a way of disappearing when he needs to. Us—we’d take the fall for all of it.”
“The doorway out of here is getting smaller by the minute,” she said. “It doesn’t leave us many options.”
“Just do whatever Edward wants, and you and I will be okay.” Russ clumped up the stairs, leaving the question about Roman still hanging.
Chapter 4
Brina sat on the bottom step, listening to Russ walk along the hallway above. To her, the options were clear, but each had its own uncertain outcome. She could simply stay, she could leave and let Roman face whatever Edward had planned for him, or she could leave with Roman and face . . . what? She spent most of her time with him, but still, even she didn’t know what to expect. Roman might surprise her and be just like a normal kid one day, but then again, she had no idea how much of his genetics had been altered. He could get sick, and then where would she take him? She pulled her hand from her lips, realizing she had been biting her nails again. It was a habit she’d picked up since moving into the house.
“It might still work out,” she mumbled, but every scenario that ran through her mind ended with her in prison and Roman left to Edward’s agenda.
She knew why she was here, and she didn’t need Russ questioning her moral standards any more than he wanted his own questioned.
Tears rimmed her eyelashes before slipping to her chin. Did Russ know why she had taken this job? Did he understand why she couldn’t leave Roman? It had taken her a while to figure it out herself, and it came back to the reason she had entertained Mathew’s offer in the first place. Her arms still held the memory of two-year-old Josh cradled in sleep.
She wiped the back of her hand across her wet cheeks, pulled the stuffed dog out of the bag, and headed upstairs.
The hall was empty and she could hear Russ dragging boxes somewhere on the second floor. In contrast, her footsteps swished silently over hand-knotted rugs, their dark, swirling patterns complementing the heavy-handed décor. Wood paneling lined the hallway walls floor to ceiling, muting the weak sunlight coming through the windows.
She cracked open the kitchen door and peeked in on Roman. His silhouette, centered in the kitchen window, paged through a book, mumbling an ongoing monologue. The phrases sounded like gibberish. Behind him, dirty cotton-ball clouds blanketed the sky, fading the color from the landscape.
The door swung shut, and she turned and let her head fall back against the wall, allowing the solid strength of the house to hold her up. Four feet away, the study door stood half-open with cream-colored rug fringe peeking from under its edge. She glanced down the hall in both directions. Edward was still somewhere upstairs.
The hallway smelled stale, with a trace of oil fumes blowing in from the outdated furnace. She rested her hand on the heavy wood door, letting it swing in. Mathew’s laptop sat open on the polished oak desk with yesterday’s Wall Street Journal piled beside the brick fireplace. This is where they had interviewed her.
A picture window behind the desk overlooked a section of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. On the right, floor-to-ceiling shelves housed leather-bound books and decorator knickknacks. The chair where she had sat during her interview now faced the fireplace instead of the desk, and a blue crocheted blanket was draped over the back of the sofa. The subtle changes transformed the room from the business atmosphere she had seen that day to something almost casual.
Papers thrown across the desk looked as though Mathew would return at any moment. He’d been in here last night. When she had come down for a snack around eleven, he was sitting in the dark, typing on his computer.
Brina crossed the threshold, taking in the room as she went to the desk, rolled back Mathew’s leather chair, and sat. Stapler, tape, pens, and phone—everything in easy reach.
Somewhere, there had to be an explanation for why he’d taken the service road.
Mathew’s credit card statement lay open on top of a stack of bills beside the keyboard. A five-second survey revealed he liked Thai food and shopped at expensive stores. She folded back the edges to peer underneath at the phone bill. Most of the calls were to Atlanta, where Mathew’s pharmaceutical company was headquartered. A list of handwritten notes lay to the side, but his scribbles seemed too trivial to mean anything.
Where the hell was he going? It bothered her that none of them knew. And it also bothered her that he was on a road that he had no business taking. Brina pulled open the desk’s center drawer.
On top was Mathew’s leather appointment book with his initials stamped in gold on the cover.
“Finally,” she whispered. She pulled it out and flipped to the current date. The page was blank. Most dates showed notes and appointments, but that had stopped two days ago. She didn’t know Mathew well, but if his desk was any indication, he took notes on everything. He would have written something over the past few days, even if it was just a “to do” list. “Something’s just not clicking here.”
His computer sat with its black screen facing her, the on button just inches from her fingertips. Brina mashed the button before she could talk herself out of it. The password box came up; she cracked it on the third try. Mathew wasn’t particularly original, she thought. Then she grinned, thinking about his cloning fascination. Ironic. She gathered that he paid people like Edward to be smart for him. Even during her short tenure, she’d seen his intensity overshadow common sense.
She opened the list of recent files; ten popped up.
“Russ, just leave the boxes at the top of the stairs. We’ll get them in the attic after dinner.” Edward’s voice grew louder as his heavy walk neared the door.
“Damn!” Brina whispered, as the list of files collapsed before she could get a good look. She grabbed the bag with Roman’s clothes and dove under the desk, thankful that it was closed in.
Edward’s shoes scuffed the hardwoods outside the door. Brina imagined him stopping and looking around as he entered the study. She stared through the opening and up at the window behind the desk, straining to see his reflection in the dirty glass, but the storm clouds outside bleached his image to a foggy shadow.
The computer cord dangled in front of her. The computer was still on. She listened for Edward, but he must have stopped to look at something on the other side of the room. Slowly, she set the bag on the floor and reached for the plug. She pulled it from the power strip and listened for the hum of the computer to hush.
Two breaths later, Edward’s gray flannel trousers blocked the opening. He shut the computer and bundled up the cords. Then his footsteps retreated to the hall and, more quietly, up the carpeted stairs.
Chapter 5
Brina waited, listening, before peeking out. The coast was clear and so was the desk. Edward had taken most of the papers, including Mathew’s notes.
She crawled out on her hands and knees, not sure why she felt the need for subterfuge. Apparently, Mathew’s death had upped the ante on her paranoia. She pulled open the drawer, took out the appointment book, and dropped it into the bag. It seemed everyone in the house knew more about what was happening than she did, and since they were less than willing to share, she’d just have to find out for herself what was going on.
She headed upstairs and hung a right into the bedroom next to her own. Only then did she allow herself to breathe deeper than the panicked shallow breaths that Edward provoked. She washed her hands, taking in the pros and cons of Roman’s new space.
The bedroom shared a bath with her own and was wired with the house’s intercom system. Brina went ahead and set Roman’s to broadcast, so she could make sure he stayed out of trouble. Next, she flipped the window locks
into place and twisted the cords for the blinds up out of Roman’s reach. The room wasn’t exactly child-proof, but she didn’t see anything that would cause major damage. A big four-poster bed dominated the room, which faced out to the back yard.
“Here you go, kiddo.” Russ nudged the door open with his foot and ducked inside. Roman sat astride his shoulders, hanging onto fistfuls of Russ’s hair. Squatting, Russ tipped Roman onto the bed.
“He was getting restless downstairs and was wandering around.”
Brina tucked the appointment book into her back pocket and placed the bag of clothes by the bed. “Sorry, I was just about to get him.” She sat down, pulling Roman to her. “This is your new bedroom. What’cha think?”
She couldn’t resist the urge to touch him and ran her hand lightly down his back.
He squirmed away, pulling a stack of pictures from his pocket and laying them on the bed. Beginning with a row of five, he lined up three underneath, and then placed a new photo on top, as if he were playing solitaire, before handing her a picture of Mathew.
“Mathew’s not here,” she answered evenly.
He pointed to the window.
“Mathew went away for a while.” Brina signed as she spoke, then set the photo back on the bed with the rest.
“The pictures were a good idea,” said Russ. He eased into the armchair and stretched his legs. His feet brushed the bed’s comforter, which already stirred in the draft.
“Until he can talk, he has to have some way to communicate. He’s a visual learner. Sign language helps with his sort of disability.”
Roman scooted across the bed. Lying on his stomach, he absently bounced a foot while rearranging the pictures into new groups and whispering.
“Disability—I guess that’s one way of looking at.” Russ smirked as he spoke. “Not that his education means much now that Mathew’s out of the picture.”
Brina tucked a tuft of hair behind Roman’s ear. “He’s learning fast, so watch what you say. Has Edward told you any more about what’s going to happen now?”
“No. But I can’t imagine it looks good. We could’ve proved all of our findings on paper, or with animal studies. But no, they both wanted Roman, and now the Mathew variable is gone and Edward can do what he pleases.”
There was a pause before she spoke. “Did you really need money that bad?”
He considered her question, “I wasn’t going to get anywhere on university grants, and this was a way out.”
“Out of what?”
“My business,” he replied. “There are other jobs for you, too.”
“At the time”—she nudged her head toward the window—“everything out there seemed a lot scarier.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about which is worse. Edward’s worried about something, and it takes a lot to shake him up.”
“Do you think he knows where Mathew was going?”
Russ held his arms up. “I don’t know anything.”
She picked up the plastic bag with Roman’s clothes and opened the top dresser drawer. “We’ll need more clothes for him. He doesn’t even have a coat.”
“Funny,” Russ said. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. If we have to take off with Roman in tow, he’ll need more than the two T-shirts and jeans he has now.”
“You’ve thought that far ahead?” Brina asked, wondering if she was included in that “we.”
“I know a place we could hide out for a while. It would be tight.” Russ scratched his head, watching Roman.
Brina stared at the two—Mathew’s ambition, even after death, still holding them to each other. The pictures Roman selected to lay out were scratched and faded from being handled. In just the past two days, he had invented his own game. She tried to find the common logic to his patterns, but so far they appeared to be random.
Snow began to pelt the windows, with grains of sleet building an icy ridge along the bottom frame.
Brina opened her mouth to ask where Russ meant for them to go but was cut off by a crash reverberating through the floor.
“Oh, that can’t be good.” Russ was on his feet and down the stairs before she could move.
“Come on, Roman.” She grabbed him up and jogged down the stairs, careful not to trip, as cold air gusted through the hallway. She followed the mini jet stream to the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door. Edward and Russ stood amid tree bark and pine needles, and an ice-coated limb occupied the table where Roman had just eaten his lunch.
“The storm’s picked up,” said Edward, sounding annoyed. “Those limbs should have been trimmed years ago.” He lifted one end of the pine branch, struggling with its weight and awkward angles; the other end remained anchored through the window. “Russ, give me a hand with this.”
Russ went out the back door and began pulling from the other side. Together, they slid the limb up and over the window frame, leaving frozen wood chips and scratched paint on the sill. Brina sat Roman on the counter and reached for the broom and dustpan. Half of the scraps were big enough for the fireplace. She chucked those out the back door and then dumped the multitude of pine needles in the trash. Last, she pushed the can under the edge of the table to catch the glass and tree bits she brushed from its top.
Russ and Edward came through the door, huffing and rubbing their hands.
“We’d better do something about this,” said Edward, pointing to the window.
Cold air and melting snow rushed through the broken frame, sucking the warmth from the room.
Russ went into the pantry and emerged a moment later with a flattened box. patched window.
“Cold.”
Brina’s hand stopped just short of grabbing the dishtowel, her hands dripping rivulets on the counter as she turned to stare at Roman. His concentration was on his creation, not their reaction. Russ stared with a mix of surprise and panic.
“Roman?” Brina tapped his knee; he looked up. His face looked the same as always, curious yet distant and cautious. “Are you cold?”
“Cold,” he repeated. He went back to playing with whatever was within reach.
Edward pulled a chair out and sat. “Good Lord.” His lips pressed a line parallel to the crease in his forehead. “Damn it!” He slapped his hand on the table.
“If we leave, the police won’t know anything,” offered Russ. “The lab will be closed. We’ll leave the ranger the number for Mathew’s lawyer and let them sort it out. There’s no reason for them to think we were anything but house guests.” Russ seemed to be talking more to convince himself than them. His hand trembled as it scratched through his hair.
A quiver flipped Brina’s stomach; she wondered what they knew that she didn’t. “If you’re worried that Roman will tell someone what you’re doing, he can’t,” she said. “He comprehends just this much,” she pinched her fingers together in front of her face for emphasis. “So what, he understands what cold is. That doesn’t mean he can explain genetic biology. I can’t explain genetic biology.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” said Edward. “He won’t learn like a normal kid. He’s much sharper than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He means,” said Russ, “that we enhanced his genes. He’s not Mathew’s exact copy.”
“I know, you told me,” she said. “He won’t get sick or have any of the ailments that Mathew had, like allergies and stuff. Right?”
“It’s a bit more than that,” said Edward. “He will learn faster, for one. And, Roman won’t have any of the physical failings that Mathew had. Mathew was diabetic. He kept it quiet; he didn’t want anyone to perceive it as a weakness.”
“Weakness?” she repeated.
“And once he matures,” added Edward. “Roman’s aging process will slow down, extending his life span by no less than fifty years.”
Brina stared at them while Roman continued to play, laying out a village of salt towers and pepper mills at the end of his Sweet’N Low highway. He had taken up his whispering chant again.
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“How were you planning to handle that? It’s not like any of you would be around in a hundred and twenty years to care for him.”
Russ answered. “Mathew was going to raise him here. Once he was old enough, we were going to ease him into a regular life. By then he would be accepted, or at least sharp enough to blend in.”
Brina was incredulous. “You can’t isolate someone his whole life and expect him to blend into the crowd.” Brina paced a half circle and then back to face Edward. “He would have to have social skills and be able to get along with people—lots of different kinds of people. That’s not something you pick up in a weekend.” She paused as a revelation flickered in her mind. “Is that why I was hired?”
Russ tapped his nose.
She stood silenced by her own stupidity. “You’re both unbelievable. Roman needs more than any one person can give him. As much as I can care for and give him, it takes a whole lot more for . . .” she paused as the thought became clear in her mind. “My God, you were just humoring Mathew. You never intended . . .” She picked up Roman. “Let’s go play somewhere else,” she said to him.
Sweetener packets scattered to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her neck. She turned her back and left them staring after her.
She took Roman to the study and clicked on cartoons. His small, warm body snuggled up to her as he put his thumb in his mouth and laid his head across her lap. Brina stroked his hair, watching the saturated images danced across the screen.
“Roman, I think you’re the only sane person in this house.”
He didn’t answer.
Chapter 6
Silverware clinked on plates, the only sound made throughout the uncomfortable dinner. Brina stabbed her pasta and rolled it to an uneven clump on her fork. Roman was feeding himself tonight, so splotches of red sauce dotted the table between his chin and the plate, but he was managing to eat most of it.
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