One Way Fare

by Barbara Taub

  “Hey, Thomas,” she shouted over her shoulder. “I’ve worn bikini tops covering more than this dress. I can’t possibly go out in public like this.” She turned to see him staring at her.

  “I,” he said fervently, “really like it. Thank God and Emma Frye.”

  “We better…” She pointed toward the restaurant. “And you can’t look at … my corset. I’m supposed to be your sister.”

  “Right.” Walking away, she heard him mutter, “Sister, sister, sister…”

  “Ready?” Leila asked as she unlocked the door. Thanks to their friends, there were already several tables booked. Ben and his wife were the first ones in the door. They had closed their own cafe after Thomas left, explaining they had a chance to turn the building into professional offices. So Alex was pressed into service at La Fontaine as waiter. He wasn’t much of a waiter, Leila had to admit. But with his endlessly effortless charm and handsome face, he didn’t need to be.

  Looking back, Leila always saw that night as a string of sepia-toned images, like old photos grouped on a shelf. One image showed candlelit tables framing beautifully dressed guests. In another, Alex was joking with the men and flattering the women. Her favorite was Thomas in his chef’s jacket muttering, “Sister, sister, sister!”

  Finally the last table was cleared and the three of them sat down with a bottle of wine. “I can’t feel my feet,” moaned Leila.

  “I need a drink,” agreed Alex.

  “I’m hungry,” Thomas declared. As they watched in disbelief, he wandered back to the kitchen and took down his omelet pan.

  Alex bent toward Leila and held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

  “My feet hurt. I don’t dance. And there’s no music.”

  He pulled Leila to her feet and hummed a waltz as he slowly bent her backward. Suddenly, she was falling and Thomas was tossing Alex toward the door. “Keep your hands off…” He gulped.

  “Sister. My sister…”

  Ignoring Alex’s apologies, Thomas closed and locked the door.

  “What was that?” she growled.

  Thomas backed up under the full weight of her glare.

  “Um … your eyes are kind of scary,” he told her.

  “We can finish cleaning up tomorrow morning,” her voice still growled low. “I’m going to bed. And Thomas?”

  He backed up nervously. “What?”

  “You’re so not the boss of me.”

  The next morning they silently finished cleaning and preparing the restaurant for the coming evening. Thomas finally said, “I’m sorry, Leila. Really, really sorry.”

  “Do you know what you’re sorry about?”

  “I have absolutely no idea. But if you tell me, I’ll know the next time I do it. I’ll probably do it anyway, but at least I’ll get a heads up before you go all scary-eyes and start with the growling.”

  Leila sat down. “Thomas, I’ve been afraid to ask. But … do you know what I am?” She stared at the floor. “I just had my nineteenth birthday, but even with my hair up and my highest heels, I barely look fourteen. You say my eyes glow when I get angry, and there are times my voice doesn’t sound … human. A train nobody else could see came when I needed it and took me back in time, but a girl I’ll know in the future told me I will still be young when more than a century has passed. So just… What are you? And what am I?”

  “My parents are Nephilim,” Thomas said simply. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Poppy said something about it.”

  Thomas laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “We don’t talk about this because people would assume we’re complete nutters. And I was so bloody furious after my brother died I never talked to my parents about it, either. So what I do know is what I heard from my grandfather. And there’s no telling if he…”

  “Thomas! Focus,” snapped Leila.

  “Right. Okay. Then.”

  Thomas took a deep breath. “At the beginning, there were angels who married humans. Some said they were fallen angels, others said they were demons. But my grandfather says they were mostly just regular low-level angels whose jobs had them hanging around humans long enough to get really attached. He says it’s like when humans see a shooting star. They know it only lasts a tiny fraction of their time, but it’s so amazing they just can’t look away. Angels have huge jobs, the universe and all. To them, some humans were shooting stars—they just had to be with them for their tiny lifetimes.

  “But it didn’t work too well for the most part, especially for their children. Angels live in a universe of time, but their human mates were gone in a blink. Plus, angels can’t really show their true nature because it kills most humans. So pretty soon they made rules saying angels couldn’t be with humans.”

  Leila thought for a moment. “What happened to the children?”

  “That’s us. Nephilim. Some turned into monsters, and supposedly their parents, the fallen angels, were imprisoned so they wouldn’t make more. The Nephilim who survived live a really long time, but we can be killed. And depending on which kind of angel is our ancestor, we might also have other differences. Our family has been Nephilim marrying other Nephilim since before Noah. So we never know what will pop up in the kids. I don’t mean crazy Buffy-the-Vampire-Slayer stuff like reading minds or flying or teleportation.”

  “Actually, Buffy has no flying and no teleportation and only one episode in Season Three where she can read minds.”

  “Leila!”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Thomas snorted but continued. “I can hear for miles if I want to, and supposedly someday I’ll be able to tell when someone is lying.” He frowned. “But when it happens, I won’t be able to lie again. Ever. Even if Mum asks me how I like the new jumper she knitted me for Christmas.”

  He looked at her carefully. “More?”

  Leila nodded.

  “Right. Well, my mother is a joy-bringer, or at least she used to be.”

  He saw her face. “It’s not as weird as it sounds. It just means someone who brings messages from a kind of Heaven we call the Court of the Watchers. My dad is a warrior, and my brother was one too.” He hesitated. “So was your mother.”

  The next question hung in the air between them. Finally she asked it. “And my father?”

  “This part isn’t so good,” he warned. “We think he’s a kind of angel.”

  “I thought you said the angels couldn’t be with humans. Could they still do Nephilim?”

  “We don’t think so. It never happened before, so we’re not sure. But this wasn’t that kind of angel.”

  “What kind of angel was he?”

  “The fallen kind.”

  Leila got up, walked to her room, and closed the door.

  Thomas looked longingly at his omelet pan.

  She opened her door. “Are you telling me my father is the devil?”

  “Um,” Thomas hedged. “You might want to look in the mirror right now.”

  Leila’s door closed. But even someone without Thomas’ hearing would have heard the screech.

  “My father is the devil. And. My. Eyes. Are. Glowing?”

  GABY Chapter Seven

  1972, Mt. Shasta, California

  The twins were sleeping, Carey riding shotgun and Connor sprawled across Gus’ backseat. As she drove the little VW through the night, Gaby knew she had to figure out her next move, but her tired mind was stuck on replay of Luic telling her he hated liars.

  Gus hummed along with his usual gasps and protests at steep mountain roads. Getting him back had been surprisingly easy. She called a neighbor on the Island and told him they were in trouble and had to get away. He had heard about Mrs. Allen and didn’t ask questions before bringing Gus over on the ferry to Seattle. Island neighbors were like that. When Gaby met him at the pier, he wished her luck before heading back to Bainbridge as a foot passenger.

  As the sun was just starting to lighten the sky near Mt. Shasta in California, she pulled into a small motel whose neon sign
alternately blinked CABINS … KITCHENETTE … TV. Using one of her emergency IDs, she registered as Mrs. Kelly Charles, and then pulled Gus around to the back where he would be less noticeable. They all stumbled into the tiny cabin, furnished simply with a double bed and a desk with a chair. She put the chair under the doorknob. Connor didn’t say anything, just shook out the sleeping bag they kept stashed in Gus and crawled inside. It didn’t take her long to reorganize the few items in the little cabin. Soon she was lying next to Carey, but it was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

  The sound of muffled marching band music woke her. Struggling up on her elbow, she looked across the cabin to see Carey and Connor lying on the sleeping bag. They were watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade on the cabin’s tiny black and white TV. The Parkers had expected to share Thanksgiving with Mrs. Allen as usual. Every year they watched the parade while Carey peeled apples for pie and Connor peeled potatoes for mashing, both arguing about who had the harder job.

  That’s it. Gaby bit her lip. I’m done pretending to be brave. She had tried to be strong when her parents died. She hid her fears about money and the war while she worked to pass the CPA exams and support the twins. She attempted to be grateful for all of Mrs. Allen’s loving assistance, ashamed she couldn’t reciprocate.

  And where did all that trying get her? Mrs. Allen was in the hospital, while Carey and Connor sat on the floor and ate day-old sandwiches on Thanksgiving. And Luic had called her a liar. She ran for the bathroom and turned on the shower. With tears streaming down her face, she leaned against the wall and tried not to make any noise.

  “Gaby?” Connor’s voice came through the door. “We’re okay. And … you’ve been in there even longer than Carey. I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Her breath caught in amazement. Could he already pick up what she was feeling? Her chin came up and she realized he was right. “Be right out,” she called. “And then we’re going to get us a turkey!”

  To their delight, the motel owner agreed to open the little gas station/general store for them. There was one small turkey left in the freezer, and they found apples, bread, butter, potatoes, and a can of cranberries. When she asked about celery and onions, he told her to wait right there while he disappeared into the house at the back of the motel. He came back and said his wife had sent him out with a bag containing a shaker of cinnamon sugar, several stalks of celery, onions, and a twist of waxed paper holding poultry seasoning. Gaby hugged him and kissed his red cheek. With the addition of a few other essentials, including a pan made from aluminum foil and a pre-made pie crust, they triumphantly returned to their little cabin.

  They used Gus’ plaid car blanket for a tablecloth and pulled the desk and chair over to the bed for their table and chairs. The frozen turkey went into a hot water-filled bathtub to defrost. The rest of the day was spent on dinner preparation, and to her delight the twins had their usual argument about apple versus potato peeling. They cheered when Gaby confessed she hadn’t been able to get any vegetables, and both helped rip bread for stuffing. While the turkey cooked, Carey used the tiny scissors from Gaby’s first aid kit to cut out turkey shapes for placemats from an old Field & Stream magazine. Connor proudly came in from the woods behind the cabin with a handful of pinecones he formed into a centerpiece around a candle stub stuck in a jar.

  The twins sat on the bed while Gaby took the lone chair, and all held hands in a circle lit by flickering candlelight. The faint serene pulses of Connor’s gift were noticeable as they sat in silence. Connor was getting stronger, Gaby worried. If she didn’t get him training, he could be dangerous.

  Finally, Carey started their traditional thanks. “I’m thankful Mrs. Allen is going to be okay.”

  Connor continued, “I’m thankful all of us fit together exactly. And I’d be more thankful if Carey would stop beating up my friends from school.”

  Carey snorted, “You wish.”

  And Gaby finished softly, “And I’m more thankful than words could tell to have both of you as my family. No matter what happens to us in the next years, I want each of us to be able to close our eyes and remember this special Thanksgiving forever.”

  As they filled their paper plates, Carey added, “And I’m especially thankful the store was out of vegetables.”

  Luic stood outside the door of the small cabin and listened to Carey shriek with laughter as Gaby told Connor he would end up looking like the Dumbo blimp in the Macy’s Parade if he took any more mashed potatoes.

  He leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes. A moment later the door opened and Connor said, “You better come inside. Do you want turkey?”

  He sat stiffly on the bed just past the crowded table, balancing a plate on his legs and watching them in quiet panic. They were in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere eating off paper plates. And he’d heard Gaby call it a special day.

  He had several gold records and more money coming in than he could spend. But Harry was the closest thing to family he’d ever had, and for them, holidays were painful reminders of the group home that gave way to concerts with the band on the road. He didn’t have a clue what to do here.

  He and Harry had spent the previous night going over everything Luic could remember about Gaby. He amazed himself with the details he could recall, most of which Harry dismissed in disgust. For some reason, Harry wasn’t interested to hear that Gaby’s eyes were so dark brown they were almost black or her eyebrows were startlingly pale above her dark lashes. And he didn’t care if her suits were slightly too big or about her habit of lining up pencils with mathematical precision, always in odd-numbered groups with the longest pencil in the center.

  Harry had him repeat every word he could remember of his last conversation with Gaby, including what Luic thought was unnecessary emphasis on the way he had accused her of being a liar and told her she had to leave. But it wasn’t until they talked about the night she went with him to Whidbey Island that Harry was finally satisfied.

  Luic had just related what Gaby told him about her lemon-yellow VW named Gus when Harry said, “That’s it!” A quick phone call soon confirmed the little yellow car had indeed been driven onto the ferry and over to Seattle. Somehow Harry had access to a network of investigators who fanned out and finally came back with information the yellow VW had been spotted heading south toward the Oregon border.

  Leaving Harry to coordinate the information coming in, Luic called the hotel desk and said he needed a rental car immediately. “Convertible?” suggested the clerk.

  “No.” Luic shuddered. “Station wagon.”

  Stopping only for gas, coffee, and pay phone calls to Harry for updates, Luic finally heard the little yellow VW had crossed into California. It was spotted at a gas station near Mt. Shasta where the girl driving had asked about motels. The third motel he tried had a blinking vacancy sign advertising cabins that reminded him of the motel on Whidbey. Luic didn’t see Gus in the parking lot, but instinct made him check behind the cabins. At the sight of the tiny yellow car tucked back under the trees, the breath he felt he’d been holding since Gaby left suddenly came back, and he was dizzy with relief.

  Luic had eaten in many of the most expensive restaurants in the world and considered himself sophisticated about food. But the turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes—no vegetables—he ate off a paper plate balanced on his lap in a tiny cabin was the best meal he could remember. Listening to the three Parkers teasing each other, with Carey getting in about ten times as many comments as the others put together, he felt like one of the children in a picture he’d seen once, standing with hungry faces pressed up against a treat-filled bakery window.

  After they finished eating, and with much complaining from Carey, the twins cleaned up while Luic drew Gaby outside.

  “How did you find us?” she asked quietly. “Gus?”

  “Yes. Talk later,” Luic said. “First I have to…”

  And then his arms were holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, and
he was kissing her.

  Gaby’s thoughts didn’t get beyond Finally! She didn’t have Connor’s gift, but her compulsive demand for order and organization was singing this was perfect. He was supposed to be holding her so desperately she couldn’t tell where their air was coming from, his tongue was supposed to be checking out hers and taking busy inventory of her teeth, and his hands were supposed to…

  “Oh, wow,” said Carey in an awed voice. “Are you sure you should do that out in public?”

  “I’d say ‘Get a hotel room’, but you’re my sister and it would be kind of gross,” added Connor. But his eyes were shining.

  “Get packed,” Luic told all of them. “I’ll send someone to take care of Gus, but we have to go now.”

  He looked at Gaby, who hadn’t moved.

  “Isn’t there something else you want to say first?” she asked.

  He looked annoyed.

  She waited.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry?”

  She smiled. “We’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  The drive back to Seattle should have been torture for Luic. Carey spoke without seeming to draw breath, while Connor studied him with an intensity he could feel like a cold hand on the back of his neck. Carey demanded he turn on the radio and asked if he could find a station playing the BeeGees or the Osmonds. Luic replied that it might happen over his cold, dead body.

  “I guess we could listen to your music,” Carey said with the air of one offering a great concession. “Gaby listens to it all the…” She shrieked as her sister reached over the back seat to tickle her mercilessly.

  “And don’t give me the eyebrow,” Gaby told him as she turned back to the front. “Lots of people listen to your music, and they have no idea what an arrogant jerk you can be.” But since she slid across the bench seat to lay her hand on his thigh and smile up at him, he just put out an arm and hauled her against him. And he realized the drive was perfect.