Parallelogram Omnibus Edition

by Brande, Robin

  “Interesting,” I say.

  “Was Venn just as irascible as I remember?”

  “Actually, he was really nice.”

  Sam shrugs. “I suppose even the crustiest old men soften over time. Or else it was just me he detested. He wasn’t the first professor of mine to feel that way. Or the last.” He smiles and goes back to his reading. I head up the stairs.

  I knock softly on Daniel’s door. “Daniel, it’s m—”

  He yanks the door open and pulls me inside. Then he kicks the door closed and wraps me in his arms. The two of us enjoy a long, much-awaited, much-needed, and very proper kiss. Then I just stand there for a little while extra, leaning into him, my head resting against his chest while my busy mind and tired body enjoy the calm of his embrace.

  “You survived,” he says.

  “I did.” I treat myself to one more strong hug from Daniel, then I give him a quick kiss and detach myself. It’s time to catch him up on what’s happened.

  There aren’t too many places to sit in here—the floor, the bed, the chair in front of his desk—and when Daniel takes the chair, I gratefully accept the bed. I remove Halli’s boots and draw my feet up under me with my back propped against the wall. It’s almost as comfortable as the puffy chair in Halli’s parents’ apartment.

  I describe my meeting with Halli’s father. Daniel doesn’t seem surprised by the offer to pay for Oxford.

  “You’re their only offspring,” he says. “Perhaps they really have been waiting for you to show any interest at all in what they do.”

  “Maybe … but you should have seem him before—the last time I was here. They had that board meeting on their island where everyone was supposed to vote about buying out Ginny’s old shares. Since they belong to Halli now, I tried to delay it until she could take over her life again and decide for herself what she wants to do. You can’t believe how furious he was when I said I wanted to learn more about the company first. That wasn’t a man who wanted his daughter involved in the family business.”

  “Unless that part of the past is changed, too,” Daniel points out.

  I slump down even further along the wall and let out a tired sigh. “I don’t know what to think about any of this anymore. I keep waiting for everything to suddenly make sense.”

  “Well, while you’re pondering that one,” Daniel says, “I have another mystery for you. I’ve been doing some research.” He picks up the tablet from his desk and is about to show me something when we hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Soon there’s a knock on the door.

  “Open up!” Sarah calls. “I come bearing provisions.”

  I jump up and open the door and Red rushes in. He launches himself onto Daniel’s bed and stretches out his full length. He lets out a satisfied groan like someone lying down after a big Thanksgiving dinner. I assume Sarah fed him well.

  Because she’s certainly doing that for me. She carries in a tray and sets it down on Daniel’s desk. Steam rises from a huge bowl of corn chowder. There’s also a basket filled with rolls and my own personal plate of cookies.

  “Wow, this looks fantastic,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.”

  Daniel reaches for a cookie. Sarah bats his hand. “Those are for Halli Markham.”

  “I think I can spare one,” I say. “But just one.”

  “Budge over,” Sarah commands Red, then she stakes out a section of Daniel’s bed for herself and for me. I bring the soup and a roll over to join her. After only the first spoonful I’m in heaven. “Sarah … wow.”

  “I’m only the rewarmer,” she confesses. “You can thank my dad. But the biscuits are mine alone.”

  I know by “biscuits” she means cookies, and I’m sorry I didn’t bring those over with me, too. But it’s too much trouble to get up. For now I tear off a chunk of roll and dip it in the soup, then give a separate chunk to Red. He chomps it open-mouthed, then goes back to his post-dinner nap.

  “Oops, careful,” Sarah says. She catches a hank of my hair just as it’s about to fall into the bowl. She drapes it back over my shoulder, then pauses for a moment with the strands still pinched between her fingers. “Do you remember me cutting your cousin’s hair?”

  “Of course,” I say. Sarah cut my real hair—that lank, thin, pathetic hair—on one of our first days together in the Alps. She trimmed it up to my shoulders and got rid of the worst part of it. It actually looked and felt a lot stronger after that—almost like Halli’s hair, only shorter.

  Sarah sighs. “Is there really no hope of Audie coming here this week? How I’d love to see her again.” She jerks her chin toward Daniel. “And that lot—he’d be ecstatic if he could have his girlfriend back, even for a day. Wouldn’t you, Dan?”

  Daniel smiles. “Yes, even for a day.”

  Sarah bounds up from the bed. “We should call her!”

  “What?” I exchange a look with Daniel. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why?” Sarah asks. “It’s daytime in the States right now, isn’t it? We wouldn’t be waking her.” She retrieves Daniel’s tablet and stands with her fingers poised over the screen. “What’s her comm number?”

  “Um …” Okay, liar, what are you going to do with this one? “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Sarah asks. “Is Audie all right?”

  Daniel gives me a quizzical look. But I have to keep a straight face. I have to keep playing my part.

  “She’s fine,” I tell Sarah. “She just … look, there’s no easy way to say this. Daniel, she’s breaking up with you. She’s in love with a different guy. She just hasn’t gotten around to telling you yet.”

  “NO!” Sarah bellows. “Unacceptable!”

  “Oh,” Daniel says, doing his best to look heartbroken. “I see.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I say. “Audie and I actually had a fight about it. I told her she was crazy to let a great guy like you go. But she’s always had this thing for this other guy named Will, and he finally started paying attention to her when she got home from our trip, and … like I said, I’m sorry.”

  I read somewhere once that the best lies always have bits of truth woven in. It’s true I have had a crush on Will for years. And it’s true he did start paying attention to me finally—although the me was really Halli. But when it came down to it, I chose Daniel over Will. I actually feel bad about telling this lie right now, because I feel like I’ve betrayed Daniel. I have to remember that the real Audie made the right choice.

  “Well!” Sarah says. “This is all terribly disappointing. I must say I’m not very pleased with your cousin right now. I thought she was a nicer girl than this.”

  “She is a nice girl,” I say in my own defense. “It’s just … sometimes people can’t help how they feel.”

  Sarah scoffs at that. “At least she could have had the courtesy to tell my brother, rather than letting him pine away for the past week …”

  “I haven’t been pining,” Daniel says.

  “Oh, really? ‘If only we hadn’t had to end our holiday so soon,’” Sarah imitates in her most melodramatic voice. “‘I hope Audie and Halli can come to Dad’s party. I hope I can see her again … She’s the finest girl I’ve ever met …’”

  Daniel glances at me and I can tell he’s embarrassed. I try not to make it worse by letting him see how much I like the report.

  “I’m really sorry,” I tell him again. “But I hope … you and I can still be friends.”

  “Of course you’re our friend,” Sarah answers. “It will take more than a fickle cousin to sever that bond. Won’t it, Dan?”

  “Without question,” he agrees. “We’re happy you’re here, Halli. And I’m certain I speak for our parents in saying you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  “Thank you.” I risk giving Daniel a private smile.

  “Look how Audie has diverted you from your supper,” Sarah says. “It’s cold now, isn’t it?”

  I s
poon in another mouthful. “It’s not bad.”

  Sarah shakes her head. “And to think I once believed she was the perfect match for my poor, lonely brother.”

  “Sarah …” Daniel warns.

  “Don’t deny it, you pathetic wretch. You’ll bury yourself in your studies again and not look at another girl for years. I know you too well.” She sighs dramatically. “I did what I could. It was not meant to be.” She pats my leg and hops off the bed. “Halli Markham, he is yours to console now. I have more biscuits to bake. It is my personal pledge that no one shall leave our party with less than half a bellyful of them.”

  She pauses at the door. “By the way,” she tells me, “I hope you won’t mind if we invite your friend Jake to the party. It seems impolite not to.”

  “That would be very rude,” I agree. This time it’s Sarah and I who share a secret smile.

  “Splendid!” she says. “I’ll write him a note and you can deliver it to him tomorrow.” Then finally she leaves us alone.

  Daniel picks up his tablet and two cookies, and takes Sarah’s spot on the bed before Red can reclaim it. He hands me one of the cookies, which I eat immediately. He takes my empty bowl from me and sets it on the floor.

  Then he threads his fingers through mine and I lean my head against his shoulder as we listen to Sarah’s steps descending the stairs. I could sit here like this for the next hour, sandwiched between Daniel and a big snoring dog. This might be the happiest I’ve felt all day.

  Except for when Daniel first kissed me this morning. That might be hard to top on even the best day. Even if I live as long as Dr. Venn.

  “You broke up with me?” Daniel asks.

  “Yes, but now I’m falling in love with you. It gets very complicated. I hope you can keep up.”

  I kiss him because I can now, and because I know we have work to do and so I won’t be kissing him again for a while. I unthread my fingers, sit up straight, and tell him I’m ready for whatever he wanted to show me.

  “It’s archival footage,” he says. “It took me a while to find. But now I understand the connection with Professor Lacksmith.”

  Daniel pokes and swipes at the screen of his tablet. Swirling lights gather above. The movie begins.

  And there’s our friend Dr. Venn.

  20

  It’s an old movie, from about twenty years ago, according to the date hovering below the image. It’s nice to see Dr. Venn walking around on his own. He’s using a cane, but he still has a pretty lively step for an 83-year-old.

  “Dr. Venn?” someone is asking. “Can you explain your findings to our viewers?”

  “No, I can’t.” He doesn’t say it in a surly way like he’s trying to get rid of the reporter, it’s more just a statement of fact.

  “Will you present your findings at the conference?”

  “You mean defend my findings,” Dr. Venn says. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Professor—”

  “Doctor,” he says icily.

  “Dr. Venn, the world will want to know.”

  Dr. Venn stops walking and faces the camera. “I’m not a fool, young man, nor are you. The world will be afraid, as they always are. Now go off and bother someone else.”

  The footage ends. “And then there’s this one,” Daniel says, “a month later.”

  There’s a crowd gathered in a large amphitheater. Maybe this is the conference the reporter was asking about. Dr. Venn stands at a podium on stage. He’s waving his cane.

  “Don’t blind yourselves!” he shouts over the sounds of the crowd. “Test it if you don’t believe me! Is there anyone here with the courage to try it for themselves and then tell me I’m wrong?”

  A man in the second row stands up. He says something, but it’s totally drowned out by the crowd. A woman holding a microphone hurries over to him.

  “Dr. Venn, my name is Sydney Lacksmith.” He’s a tall, thin, stately-looking gentleman with a very proper English accent. “I would be honored to try your machine.”

  “Is that your Professor Lacksmith?” I ask Daniel.

  “Yes.”

  “If it does what you claim,” Professor Lacksmith says, “then this is an unprecedented breakthrough in physics and consciousness studies. In which case I will be the first to support you. If the experiment fails …”

  “If it fails,” Dr. Venn tells him and rest of the assembled conference, “then you can call me a liar to my face and to the public. But I thank you for your scientific integrity. It seems everyone else here wants to skip the experimental phase and move straight to the name-calling.”

  The crowd grumbles and complains about that, but Dr. Venn has already left the podium. He makes his slow, deliberate way down the steps of the stage, then continues toward Professor Lacksmith to shake his hand.

  “What’s the experiment?” I ask Daniel.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Lacksmith has never mentioned it. I know he’s exchanged information and ideas with Dr. Venn over the years, but he’s never spoken of this conference. At least not in any of our classes.”

  “Did you find anything else?” I ask.

  “Dozens of interviews over the years, but nothing significant so far as I can tell. Although I might not know what I’m looking for. These two caught my eye simply for the Lacksmith connection.”

  “What does your Professor Lacksmith do?” I ask. “Why is he a ‘yorker’? And don’t tell me it has something to do with cricket—I’m not buying it.”

  Daniel sighs. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes! Of course.” I think of what Sarah said: “If he considers you a true friend, he’ll tell you.” I’ve been Daniel’s girlfriend under two different names and in two different bodies so far. If that doesn’t make me his true friend by now …

  “All right,” he says reluctantly. “But promise you won’t laugh.”

  21

  “I study fungus,” he says.

  “Fungus?”

  “Specifically the neural networks of underground fungi in woodland environments, and their role in conveying information and nutrition among clonal colonies and differing species of trees.” He pauses to give me time for that to sink in. “Fungus.”

  “Whoa,” I tell him. “Back up. Give that to me in bite-size chunks, please.”

  Daniel smiles. “Now you know how I feel sometimes when you rattle off physics phrases that seem perfectly clear to you and sound like gibberish to me.”

  “Sorry. Now’s your chance to do better.”

  “All right, then let me give you some context first,” he says. “A few years ago I attended a lecture by Professor Lacksmith. He described a phenomenon whereby trees under attack by a particular beetle in one part of a forest are able to send signals to their fellow trees at great distances away. Those alerted trees could then rapidly produce their own chemical defenses to ward off the beetles. So how do they do it?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “How do they?”

  “Underground networks. The forest’s nervous system. Tree roots connect to networks of fungi and transport information and nutrition from one plant to another.”

  “So that’s what neurobotany is?” I say. “Studying the nervous systems of plants?”

  “That’s one way of describing it,” Daniel says. “It’s a fringe field. Not many scientists support it. Only humans and animals are thought to have nervous systems. Professor Lacksmith is one of a small collection of scientists who believe otherwise.”

  “And you believe it, too,” I say.

  “I do.”

  “So what’s yorking?” I ask. “Is that part of this?”

  “‘Yorker’ really is a cricket term,” he says. “It’s when the bowler—the pitcher, if it were baseball—delivers the cricket ball low to the ground. So someone decided that what we do is yorking—low and beneath the ground.”

  “How do you win at it?” I know Daniel won first place for it, but I don’t see how.

  “There’s a york
ing competition every year,” he says. “The winner is the one who devises the fastest method for passing messages from one tree to another. It depends on the mixture of chemicals and whether you deliver it as a gas to the branches or as a liquid you inject or pour into the roots—”

  “Wait a minute,” I interrupt. Because now it’s starting to sink in. Not what he’s telling me—that part’s pretty cool—but what the implications are as between him and me.

  I fix him with a hard, steely glare. “Daniel Everett. Do you mean to tell me that all this time when I’ve been sharing with you every little detail of all my weird theories about quantum physics and parallel universes and all of that, you’ve been hiding your own weird plant experiments? Come on!”

  Daniel looks uncomfortable. “Not hiding … waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “The right time.”

  “Which was?”

  Daniel coughs. “Now seems right.”

  “No,” I say. “To borrow a word from your sister, unacceptable. Daniel, why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you think I’d be interested? Of course I’m interested! I would have loved to hear everything about every single one of your …” But then the obvious answer pops into my brain. “Oh … you didn’t trust me.”

  “In my defense,” he says, still looking embarrassed, “I understood what Dr. Venn meant this morning—about why he was so harsh with us when we contacted him yesterday.”

  “That he’s learned to be cautious,” I recall. Daniel nods. “Because not everyone wishes him well.”

  “I’ve had a few … unfortunate experiences of my own,” Daniel says. “Without going into specifics, let’s just say it has been made clear to me that most girls do not fancy a bloke whose life’s ambition is to study fungus.”

  “Well, I’m not most girls. Which I think should be obvious by now. And besides, I’ve always wanted to date a guy like that.”

  Daniel smiles. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it.

  “I’ve also always wanted to date a guy who does that.” I pretend to swoon, but I don’t have to pretend all that much. Daniel really understands the romantic gesture.