Still working. That didn’t surprise her.
“Dad—” She suddenly felt so drained. “Can we go see Mom…and get out of these wet clothes? I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re all dry and settled.”
“Yes—” Tom Patterson’s eyes swept over the trio. “I think I need to sit down for this one.”
* * *
It looked like a UN summit.
Aimee, Zak, and Raja were seated on one side of the dining room table and her parents on the other. Jennifer Patterson’s fingers twitched atop the polished surface. She grabbed the corner of the lace table runner and swiped at an imaginary smudge. Across from her, Raja picked up a donut from the plate before her and peered through the hole. She leaned towards Aimee and whispered, “Do I eat this?”
Clearing her throat, Aimee met her parent’s curious stares. The change in their appearance was not as dramatic as it had been the last time. Even now they sat there in resigned silence. They deserved the full story, but the nagging risk that they might inadvertently alert authorities still existed. Aimee realized she was treading a precarious line, but she cared for everyone at this table and sought to protect each equally.
After an elusive explanation that their drenched attire was the result of a car mishap, Aimee’s father had offered Zak a change of clothes. Unlike the leather tunic which made him look raw and muscular, these jeans were slightly baggy, but his shoulders filled out the white t-shirt with a warrior’s physique.
“Alright,” Tom began. “I would like to state for the record, that all that matters to your mother and me is that you are alive, and you are well. You look well.” A graying eyebrow dipped. “Are you well?”
“I am well,” she confirmed with a nervous smile.
“Good.” He sat back.
“You can eat that.” Jennifer encouraged Raja.
Raja shot a discreet glance at Aimee, awaiting her swift nod of assurance.
“Let’s start out with some introductions,” Tom offered solicitously. “I am Tom Patterson, and this is my wife, Jennifer—Jen.”
A palpable pause ensued. Aimee skewed a look left and then right.
A muscle pumped in Zak’s jaw. His dark hair was short again, a manifestation of the soldier that he was. Lines from the sun crept around the edges of his eyes. He was a man who had waged battles in space—a man who had dispelled jungle monsters on the planet Bordran. A man who had survived near blindness, madness, and even the plague. A man who had eradicated the cursed Korons and instantiated the peace of his people. And he picked this moment to clam up?
“This—” She latched onto his arm. “This is Zak. He is my—” World. “—husband.”
Tom’s hand dropped onto the table. Jen’s jaw followed it.
“Well—” Aimee added, “—actually, it was a quick ceremony. We’re looking to—renew our vows.”
“You came home so that we could plan a wedding?” Jen visibly brightened, disregarding the absurdity of the moment.
“Err, yes.”
“You’re not—” Tom’s telltale glance dropped to her stomach.
“No.” Oh God! “No!”
Heck, why was she being defensive? She was a grown woman now. And the thought of having Zak’s child made her feel like a fleet of butterflies had just let loose inside her body.
“You’re not what?” Zak asked with concern.
“Never mind.” She could feel her cheeks burning.
His gaze dropped and he murmured, “Oh. Ohhh.” A playful glint infused his gaze.
“Ack!”
Raja’s outburst disrupted the awkward moment.
“What?” Aimee nearly screamed, suddenly teetering on the edge of sanity.
A ring of white powder circled Raja’s lips, and a button of powdered sugar lodged on the tip of her nose. “This is—” her nose scrunched up in consideration until she beamed, “—awesome!”
“They’re from Harris Teeter,” Jen remarked.
Drawing in a deep breath, Aimee was certain that she was losing control.
“Look—” she splayed her hands flat on the table. “I want to tell you where I’ve been—”
There was no denying the anxiety on her parent’s faces. It tormented her to know that she was the source of that uncertainty. Damn Salvan for yanking her out of the woods when she was seventeen. But then again, had he not done so she would have never met Zak.
Beneath the table she reached for Zak’s hand, and drawing in a deep breath, she began her tale.
* * *
Tom sat back and folded his arms. His lips pursed in consideration, an expression Aimee had often seen him use on his co-workers. He started to speak and then clamped his mouth shut again. Jen’s eyes darted anxiously between Aimee, Zak and Raja.
Reaching for her sweet tea, Aimee took a heavy gulp.
Finally, her father spoke. “You’re telling me that you are sitting here between two aliens?”
“The term aliens is a matter of perspective, Dad. They’re just from somewhere else.”
“Aimee, we love you,” he started, “and we recognize that something traumatic has happened to you. And I can clearly see that these two are very close to you.”
“But you don’t believe a damn word I’m saying,” she filled in, disappointed.
“I believe that you believe the tale. But aside from some bizarre clothes, Zak and Raja seem like normal people to me.”
In her periphery, Aimee noticed that Raja smiled in the misguided belief that she had just received a compliment. On her other side, Zak sat pensively.
What was she supposed to do, ask him to go stick his head in the sink for ten minutes to prove he was different?
“Mister Patterson—” Zak’s voice startled her. Arching an eyebrow, he leaned in to ask, “—is that correct?” She nodded like a bobble-head doll.
“Mister Patterson,” Zak repeated. “I can imagine that this all must be very—” he paused, “—odd. But what Aimee tells you is the truth. It was ten years ago that I had to give up the woman I love. We both agreed that she needed to be with you, and that she needed to finish her schooling.”
Tom’s eyes flared. He clasped his hands together on the table, but remained reserved.
“And then five years later your daughter determined that she wanted to—” Zak hesitated and cleared his throat, “—come back to me.” In a husky voice he added, “It was hard for her to leave you, but at that time she felt you would have never believed her story. She also had the misguided idea that she was protecting me. Even now it probably would be much easier for her to come up with a lie that is more convenient for everyone to accept—but that’s not Aimee’s style. She loves you both very much, and she wants to share with you every crazy event that has happened to her during her time away.”
Tom rubbed a hand across his graying stubble. Over that clasp, he cast a glimpse at his wife who looked equally conflicted. A clock chimed quietly in the living room. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Finally, Tom squared his shoulders and fixed his eyes on Zak.
“These are the facts that I know,” he declared. “My daughter disappeared for five years. She returned with a story about a kidnapping, but her recap was vague. We were not going to push. There was no telling what trauma she had been through. It was entirely conceivable that the memory loss was simply a method of defense, and we didn’t want to tamper with that shield. Our relief to be with her was so tremendous that we accepted the account and moved on.” Sullen, he added, “And then exactly five years to the day she disappeared again. And now, here we are, on the fifteenth anniversary of Aimee being taken from those woods as a teenager.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Tom locked stares with Zak. “I don’t know you. I don’t know where you come from. But I know my daughter, and I see how she looks at you. I see how you look back. The only way I am going to be at peace with this missed time is if you assure me that you have taken care of my little girl while she’s been gone.”
Aimee sense
d the tension drain from Zak’s shoulders. “You have my word that no matter where we were or where we will be—I will always love and protect your daughter.”
A sob escaped Jen’s lips and she clamped a hand over them.
Tom’s throat bobbed.
“Thank you,” he nodded. “I will accept that for now. The last thing I want to do is make my daughter uncomfortable or give her any inclination to leave. And—” He yanked his hat off and ran a hand through his flattened hair, “I would like to get to know you better, if that’s alright with you.”
Zak dipped his head in assent. “I would like that as well.”
Before Aimee could digest the situation, Tom turned his attention to Raja. His stare was so intense that she stopped in mid-bite of her second donut.
“And how do you fit into this picture?”
Raja’s wide green eyes converged on Aimee. Picture? She mouthed with white sugar stuck to her lips.
“Raja is—”
“Bahh—” Tom cut Aimee off. “She can speak. I heard her.”
“I—” Raja looked alarmed. Just as quickly she regrouped and the composed scientist emerged. “I am their friend. I have come here to learn. I believe that I have exceeded the limits of what I can achieve on the Horus. Aimee told me this would be like—” she cocked her head, blonde hair spilling across her shoulder, “—college.”
“You don’t have college where you come from?” Tom questioned.
“We have schooling, yes. But who has the opportunity to be educated in another galaxy?”
“Tom—” Jen injected.
Tom held his hand up and continued. “Another galaxy? Right.” He nodded. “No, not too many people have an opportunity like that.”
Aimee was crestfallen. Her father still did not believe them. It was impossible to blame him, but it still hurt. At least he was not throwing them all out.
“Maybe we should go—” She slid her chair back from the table.
“No!” Jen vaulted to her feet. “Thomas Patterson, you better change your attitude right this minute. We are not going to chase our daughter away. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?”
Jerking from the lashing, Aimee’s father looked like he had been smacked. “No, no,” he fumbled, “of course not. I do not want you to leave.” He rang his hands together. “We will work this out. Aimee, give us time. It’s all so—confusing.”
Aimee rounded the table and threw her arms around her father’s neck. “I love you, Daddy. No matter what you think, I’m telling the truth and I’m not crazy, but I also understand if you don’t believe me. Please, just accept me. Accept Zak. And Raja. Please.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, sturdy arms wrapped around her. Two more arms laced around them as she smelled her mother’s floral perfume.
* * *
“This was your room?” Raja contemplated the photos of Ziggy hung above the white wicker desk. Scenic nature photographs in silver frames dotted the pink walls above the wicker headboard. A particularly artful portrait of a praying mantis had Aimee smiling. It was one of her prized shots. That bug had been as graceful and elegant as a princess in her tweenage opinion.
“Dinner was very—delicious,” Raja offered.
After dealing with the complexities of meatloaf, they had talked for several hours, but the conversation was reserved to what Tom and Jen had been up to recently. It was the easiest outlet. One of the events during that period of time was their move into the townhouse. They still owned the house Aimee had grown up in, but it was too much for them to maintain. Not to mention the floods that had been incurred by back-to-back freak hurricanes, which expanded the modest pond into a lake.
This fortunate turn of events offered a place of refuge for Aimee, Zak, and Raja. So much planning had been involved with her departure five years ago. A safety deposit box contained a decent amount of savings from her well-paying job. Automatic bank withdrawals had been scheduled to pay for it. She had lived frugally in her modest apartment, saving up a nest egg for this very occasion. It was a relief to realize that she did not need to tap into that cache to secure them a place to live.
Now, the monumental decisions were of a caliber she could tackle. Which rooms should they sleep in?
“This is too small for you,” she said. “You can take my parent’s room.”
The thought of sleeping in her parent’s bed was still kind of icky, even at this age.
“I like the acoustics in here.” Raja cocked her head.
Next to the bed, the double-hung window was open to air the room out. A chorus of crickets called from outside, blending with the rustle of the trees in the evening breeze. For a moment they stood transfixed, listening to that peaceful symphony. It was a stark contrast from the hushed pulse that filled the Horus.
“Well, if you’re sure. I will be down the hall if you need me. The bathroom is right outside your door.”
“Aimee,” Raja turned to her, her face glowing blue from the moon shining through the window. “You worry too much.”
No truer statement was ever uttered.
“Sleep well, Raja. I hope—” she hesitated, “—I hope that you have no regrets. No regrets in coming here.”
“That would be the worrying again.” Raja stepped up and gave her a quick hug. Her eyes roved the room and came back. “This is going to be the adventure of my life.”
* * *
Aimee clicked the door shut behind her. This was the guest room, or as her mom had always referred to it, the Pine Suite. Furnished back when Jen was big into theme rooms, it still preserved its motif. It was like stepping into a cabin in the mountains, with hunter green paint and wood accents. A canoe plaque hung on the wall, reading, What happens on the lake stays on the lake. In the corner, a wood-carved black bear sat next to a lampstand casting a yellow glow.
None of it mattered. What mattered was the shirtless man sitting on the corner of the bed. Like the black bear, he watched her with a steady gaze as if gauging the moment to pounce. To finally be alone with him...it was all she wanted. She took a step forward and Zak rose. They met in the middle of the floor and his arms came around her and her palms settled on his warm flesh.
“Have I made a mistake bringing you both here?” she entreated. “It is so different from your world.”
“And Ziratak wasn’t different for you?” His husky tone made her skin erupt in goosebumps.
“I want you to be happy, Zak.”
His head drew back to look into her eyes. “What do you think makes me happy?”
“I—I—”
“Yes, you.” His lips were on hers. “You,” he whispered against them.
Lost in his kiss, she roused from that rapture and managed to say, “Zak, my mother is planning a wedding. Are you ready for that?”
He growled when she resumed talking. “I’m sure it will be less dramatic than our first wedding.”
Considering that she had been unconscious for their bonding ceremony, she was looking forward to participating in their vows and making them a traditional couple. Hah. A traditional couple.
“We have so much to do tomorrow. Dad wants to take you on a tour of the automotive plant, and later I want to bring Raja to the library—”
“Aimee?”
“Hmmm?”
“Stop talking.”
“What?”
His eyes smoldered with promise, bringing heat to her cheeks. “Oh,” she gulped. “Yes, that’s all for tomorrow.”
“And for tonight, Zer-shay?” His breath dusted across her lips.
“Tonight there is this.” She reached up on her toes and their mouths connected, and neither gave a damn what universe they were in.
Chapter Three
There were probably hotter places than this. Several countries along the equator. Phoenix. The bowels of Hell? But right now, none seemed to compare with North Carolina in August. Throw in the fact that he was sitting inside a government-issued Hyundai and could not run the air for fear the alternator
belt would expose him, Federal Agent Craig Buchanan’s patience was running thin. Brushing a forearm across his brow, he caught a glimpse of his watch. 1:05pm. Seven hours had been spent in this cursed sedan.
One could argue that his relief should be arriving any minute, but the argument would fall flat. No one knew he was here. And why was that? Because he had botched his last mission and was sanctioned to desk duty for the month. A desk was not always an innocent piece of furniture, though. You’d be surprised what people could throw down atop a desk. Someone. Some guardian angel. Some divine being...most likely his partner...had slipped a piece of paper on top of his desk. A simple sticky note with the name, Sam King, and an address. He had not glanced up to connect with the eyes of his savior. That would have drawn attention to the surreptitious exchange. But three desks away he heard the loud squawk of Wally Zwyor’s swivel chair as he deposited his sizeable girth into it.
Wally was a cheerleader. A really big cheerleader. The divisional office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was as pleasant as a DMV line, but Wally served as the resident comedian/psychiatrist. And Wally defended his own. He was with Craig when the last drug bust went down—when everything had gone to hell. Though neither of them suspected that the raid would include a thirteen-year-old girl, Craig, as the lead investigator took the heat for not examining everyone on the scene. That mission was supposed to have been the culmination of a year-long probe to locate Diego Carlo. When it was certain that he had corralled Diego’s contingent, and possibly the man himself—that pretty little girl in pink walked right out the door with $750,000 of marijuana in her school bag.
To say that Craig’s supervisors were displeased would be an understatement. But with that simple slip of paper resting atop his desk, Craig had been offered redemption. It was a far-fetched connection at best. The drug ring headed by Diego Carlo was based in Florida, but the botched raid occurred in the Outer Banks, near Pamlico Sound. The address on the sticky note was in southwest North Carolina, an area that the satellite images revealed as sparsely inhabited with farms. It would not hurt to investigate on his own time.
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