The Remembering

by Steve Cash

  She let go of my hand and we turned to leave the bedroom. As I switched off the light, I said, “Oh, yes, there are. You just can’t see them.”

  Antoinette surprised Carolina again by announcing she wanted to move back to St. Louis and transfer to Washington University and study literature, if they would accept her. Carolina was overjoyed and quickly made a few telephone calls to some old friends. Antoinette took a few tests, which she passed easily, and within days she was enrolled as a student in Washington University for the spring semester. Two weeks later, on a cold, blustery Saturday afternoon in the middle of January, the three of us were sitting in the kitchen discussing whether Antoinette should concentrate on English or French literature. Suddenly the back door to the kitchen burst open and Star and Willie stood in the doorway.

  Star locked eyes with Carolina. Although they had exchanged letters throughout the war, they hadn’t seen each other since it began. She was wearing a long wool coat with a fur collar turned up. She was forty-four years old and looked exactly like Carolina at that age. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. The tiny gold flecks sparkled in the light. “Mama,” she said, running over to Carolina and embracing her. Carolina nearly disappeared inside the coat, but I could hear her say quietly, “Oh, I missed you. Oh, how I have missed you.”

  Willie Croft looked remarkably well, and a little silly. On his head, with the earflaps pulled down and covering his ears, he wore a multicolored, cone-shaped, knitted wool cap. I couldn’t help but laugh. Willie ambled over to me in his peculiar gait and smiled. “Peru,” he said, then removed the cap and ran his hand through his hair, which had thinned and become more gray than red.

  “Peru?” I asked. “What do you mean, Willie?”

  “The cap, Z. The bloke who sold it to me told me it was Peruvian—from the mountains north of Cuzco. Quite handsome, don’t you think?”

  “Quite,” I said. I laughed again and we shook hands vigorously.

  Willie looked me up and down. “It’s good to see you, Z.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Willie … more than you think.”

  Star let go of Carolina and turned to give me a big hug. “I didn’t know you would be here, Z. This is wonderful.”

  “Yes, it is, Star,” I said, hugging her tightly. I saw Antoinette still sitting at the table and watching the homecoming with a wide smile. I asked Star if she had ever met Antoinette Boutrain.

  “No,” Star answered. She looked down at Antoinette and extended both hands. “But I’ve heard all about her from Jack.”

  Antoinette took hold of Star’s hands and stood up. “And I’ve heard all about you,” she said. “Since I was a little girl.”

  At that moment there was a loud banging on the kitchen door, then a man shouted, “Someone open the door! Hurry!”

  “That would be Caine,” Willie said, opening the door and letting in a rush of cold air.

  I never saw the face of Caine’s father, Jisil al-Sadi. He was already dead and facedown in the sand when I found him. But judging from Caine’s face, Jisil must have been an extraordinarily handsome desert warlord. Caine stood in the doorway holding two large suitcases in his hands, another under his right arm, and a smaller one under his left. He smiled when he saw me and took a quick step forward, tripping and tumbling into the kitchen along with all the suitcases. He fell into me, knocking me back into Antoinette, and the three of us rolled together under the kitchen table in a heap of arms and legs.

  I ended up on top of Antoinette with Caine sprawled across my feet. He raised his head a few inches and looked at me. “Sorry, Z. I suppose I tripped.”

  I laughed and said, “I suppose you did.” Underneath me, Antoinette groaned and tried to wriggle free. I turned over and as I backed out from under the table, I saw Caine and Antoinette exchange a glance. It only lasted a moment, but it was an electric spark. No one else saw it. I smiled to myself because even though there was no way to know where it would end, there was no doubt something had begun.

  The winter of 1946 passed quickly. In February, Mitch and Mercy purchased a house near the corner of Olive and Boyle. Carolina insisted on helping them furnish it, and a big house-warming party was held the next week.

  Star and Willie had planned on staying at Carolina’s a month or two, but decided in March to leave it open-ended. Willie said there was nothing to worry about concerning Caitlin’s Ruby. Koldo and Arrosa ran the farm well and were completely accepted by the locals, which was not always the case in Cornwall, as Caitlin Fadle herself discovered four hundred years earlier. Star said Arrosa and Koldo now had twin boys, born during the war and named Kepa and Yaldi, after Koldo’s grandfather and my papa. I felt honored and realized he still believed in the unique and ancient bond between our families. I promised myself I would visit our homeland in the Pyrenees, and I would do it with Koldo as my guide.

  Caine had intended on returning to England in a few weeks, but to no one’s surprise, by April he had changed his mind. He applied to Washington University as a professor in linguistics and by May he had been hired for the fall semester. It was not a shock he was accepted so rapidly. Caine possessed an advanced degree from Cambridge and his work in deciphering early Aegean languages and scripts was well known in academic circles. In a way, Caine and I shared the same “ability.”

  Carolina still had her box seats at Sportsman’s Park and the two of us saw the majority of the Cardinals’ home games. A young player named Stan Musial impressed me all season with his natural baseball instincts, and he was a terrific hitter. He batted .365 with 228 hits and was picked Most Valuable Player of the year in the National League. The Cardinals won the pennant and played the Boston Red Sox in the World Series. On October 13, just after the Cardinals had won game six, Carolina and I returned home to find Jack and another man sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. It was an unannounced and unexpected visit, and Carolina scolded him for it, then gave him a long, warm embrace. Jack winked at me and said, “Cards won—I know—we were listening.”

  I turned to look at the other man and he smiled at me. He was about sixty years old with a shock of white hair and a very distinctive face that I recognized immediately. For a moment I thought Sak had come back to life and aged twenty years. But it wasn’t Sak, it was his oldest brother, Dr. Bikki Hiramura—Cardinal.

  “I am Zianno Zezen.”

  “Yes,” the man replied. “I have known your name for decades.” He extended his arm and we shook hands. “It is a pleasure to finally meet.”

  “Should I call you Doctor or Bikki?”

  He laughed. “Bikki, please. And you, do you prefer Zianno or Z?”

  “Call me Z.” I let a moment or two pass. He had dark brown eyes, just like Sak. “Your brother was a fine man … a brave man … and an excellent potter.”

  “Thank you. Those are kind words. We had different destinies, but our beginnings were the same. I regret never having known him as a man.”

  Just then a thought occurred to me. He had known about me for decades. We could have met many times, anytime he wished, but we did not. This visit was no coincidence. Quietly I said, “You have come to tell me something. Should I hear it now or later?”

  Bikki dropped his smile and glanced at Carolina and the others. “Later,” he said.

  Over dinner, Carolina reminisced about the World’s Fair of 1904, the last time she had seen Bikki Hiramura or any of the Ainu that Solomon had befriended before the Fair. After dinner and helping Antoinette clear the table, Bikki, Jack, and I walked outside to the “Honeycircle” and began our talk. Bikki stood next to Baju’s sundial facing me. “First,” he said, “I must ask if you have noticed anyone following you, anyone at all, man or woman?”

  I didn’t have to think about it. The Meq are instinctively cognizant of all Giza and their attention to us. It is a part of our basic nature and necessary for survival. “No,” I answered.

  “Good. That is good. I feared they might find you before you were aware of it.”r />
  “They? Who are ‘they’?”

  Jack answered my question. “We aren’t sure, Z. We only know there is a new unit attached to the Army and they are running a covert program that might have something to do with the Meq.”

  “What sort of ‘program’?”

  Bikki looked once at Jack, then turned back to me. “It is still a mystery,” he said. “I am working on it. There is someone I suspect is involved—”

  Jack interrupted. “We think Blaine Harrington may be in on it.”

  “Nevertheless,” Bikki continued, “I would recommend you pass this information on to the others, wherever they may be, until we get to the truth.”

  “Easier said than done, Bikki.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “I will keep an eye out for anything suspicious and report it to Jack immediately. And I … we … appreciate your vigilance on our behalf. Solomon would be quite proud of his investment.”

  Cardinal looked up at the night sky wheeling above the “Honeycircle” and laughed. I remembered Sak laughing the same way in the trough of a twenty-foot wave in the middle of the Bering Sea.

  Jack and Bikki stayed long enough to see the Cardinals beat the Red Sox in game seven and win the World Series. In Carolina’s kitchen, at Antoinette’s request, we celebrated with champagne and hot dogs. The next day Jack kissed Carolina on the cheek and was in the middle of promising to come home for Christmas when she put a finger to his lips and said, “No promises, Jack. Just make it back if you can.”

  I took Bikki’s warning to heart for the next two months. On every walk, especially in Forest Park, I used my hyper-hearing and kept my other senses at full alert. Nothing happened and I saw no one following me. Jack never made it back for Christmas, but he sent chocolates to Carolina from Switzerland. By that time I had relaxed my guard somewhat and by the spring of 1947, I rarely thought about it. What I did think about constantly was Opari. I longed for her presence, her voice … her touch. It didn’t help to watch Caine and Antoinette falling deeper and deeper in love, although I couldn’t have been happier for them. Still, every time I saw Caine whispering something to Antoinette and making her smile, I wanted to do the same to Opari.

  Later that year, Willie Croft rediscovered his love of flying and bought a single-engine Cessna 170, which he kept at Lambert Field. Not long afterward, he sold the Cessna and bought a rare de Havilland twin-engine Mosquito, a British aircraft that had become famous during WWII for its versatility. The plane was light and fast, and Willie and Star would often fly to air races throughout the Midwest. Willie was an excellent pilot and always looked forward to flying, but in the spring of 1949 he had to fly for a purpose other than pleasure. Carolina received word that Ciela had passed away at Finca Maria due to complications from diabetes. Carolina was heartbroken at the news and wanted to be there for the funeral. Willie said he would charter a plane and take her to Cuba himself. I remained in St. Louis with Antoinette, but Carolina, Star, Caine, and Willie took off from Lambert Field the next day, circling once, then disappearing over the southeastern horizon.

  Without Carolina and the others around, the old house suddenly seemed too big and too empty. Antoinette spent most of her mornings and afternoons on campus at Washington University, but we shared dinner and long conversations every evening in Carolina’s kitchen. I liked her candid and curious nature. We discussed anything and everything, including the Meq. One night she asked, “Do you get lonely, Z? I do not mean to pry, but it has been so long since you have seen any of your … any of your friends.” I smiled inside because I had been thinking about Nova and Ray that afternoon. “I miss them all,” I said. “And I worry about them. In matters of the heart, Antoinette, we are no different than you.”

  When Carolina returned two weeks later, she was visibly saddened and drained. She had known Ciela since they were both young women. They were more like sisters than friends, and Carolina took Ciela’s death hard. Star said it had been difficult for everyone, and Willie said the weather hadn’t helped, raining constantly for eight days in a row. It didn’t take long, however, for Carolina’s love of life to reappear. Antoinette graduated from Washington University in the spring of 1950 and Carolina held a small graduation party in the “Honeycircle.” During the party, Antoinette and Caine announced their engagement along with their intention to marry in the fall. Carolina whooped and hollered as if she were cheering at Sportsman’s Park, and the next day she and Star began making plans for the wedding.

  A man’s true secrets are more secret to himself than they are to others.

  —PAUL VALERY

  The summer passed quickly and on a golden Saturday afternoon in October, the wedding took place in Carolina’s living room, then moved outside to the “Honeycircle” for the reception. Mitch gave the bride away and Jack arrived just in time to serve as Caine’s best man. Mitch hired a few friends, all jazz musicians from St. Louis, to play at the reception. After kissing the bride and congratulating the groom, Jack pulled me aside, saying he had something extraordinary to tell me—now! I followed him up the stairs of the carriage house and into Star’s old bedroom. The colors of the constellations Nicholas had painted on the walls nearly fifty years earlier were now dull and faded, but they were still there, and they were still beautiful.

  I looked at Jack. “What is so extraordinary?”

  “Listen to this and tell me what you make of it,” he said, beginning by telling me where he’d been and why. Since the end of the war, Jack had been employed by the Post-Dispatch as an international sports columnist, a job that enabled him to travel the world, and was also perfect cover for his other activities. His most recent mission had been a rendezvous with “Valery,” the Soviet agent who also worked for Jack. Their meetings were often held around major sporting events because they were public and usually crowded. This rendezvous took place in Belo Horizonte, Brazil, during the 1950 World Cup soccer match between the United States and England. Several of the players on the U.S. team were from St. Louis and Jack knew two of them personally. Jack said the game was terrific, with the U.S. pulling off a 1–0 victory, the biggest upset in international soccer history. After the goal was scored, Jack said he was scanning the crowd with binoculars to watch the reactions of the crowd when he came across something completely unexpected. Across the stadium, a boy about my size was rising in his seat and turning to leave, and even though Jack had never seen the boy before, he thought I might know him. “His hair was tied back with a green ribbon,” Jack said, “and he wore ruby earrings.”

  “That is extraordinary,” I said.

  “And that’s not all, Z. Two days later I was in a taxi on my way to the train station, and I passed Sailor and Sheela walking down the street. The traffic was too congested to have the taxi pull over, but there was no doubt, Z. It was them.” Jack paused, then asked, “What do you think?”

  I didn’t know what to think. My first reaction was simply that I was glad to hear any of us were still alive. But what were Sailor and Sheela doing in Brazil? Were they tracking the Fleur-du-Mal? Was he tracking them? And where was everybody else … where was Opari? I couldn’t answer Jack because I had nothing but questions myself.

  “There’s something else,” Jack said.

  “What is it?”

  “We think Blaine Harrington has moved his unit and his operations to somewhere on the West Coast. We don’t know the exact location—yet. It is a ‘black’ operation and ‘Cardinal’ has not been able to learn much about it. In the meantime, I would stay vigilant, Z. I don’t trust the man in the least. Have you noticed any funny stuff, anybody following you or taking your picture?”

  “No, nothing, Jack. Do you really think Blaine Harrington is after the Meq?”

  “I don’t know, Z, but one way or another, we’re going to find out.”

  Below us, in the “Honeycircle,” the band began playing something by Duke Ellington. I looked down through the louvered windows of the carriage house
at Baju’s sundial. There was just enough sunlight left for the gnomon to cast a shadow. It was late in the day and late in the year.

  Carolina bought her first television set in 1951. It took two deliverymen to carry it inside, and she had to move a couch to make room for it. Mitch rigged an antenna on top of the house and after a few slight adjustments, the picture was sharp and clear. For a year or so, Carolina thought it was an interesting novelty to have in the home, but she soon changed her mind about television, worrying that people were going to forget how to entertain themselves. “Besides,” she added, “I cannot stand the commercials.”

  In 1952 Willie Croft bought another airplane, a de Havilland Canada DHC-2 Beaver, and he and I embarked on a cross-country adventure through fifteen states. I kept in constant touch with Carolina and Star to see if there had been any word from any of the Meq. Each telephone call brought the same reply: “Sorry, Z. No word from anyone.”

  In 1953 the Cardinals had some good players, Stan Musial among them, but the team only had a so-so season. However, September 1 was a memorable day for two reasons: the Cardinals hit five home runs with the bases empty, tying a major league record, and Antoinette announced to everyone that she was pregnant and due in the early spring. Christmas brought nothing but baby gifts and by January Carolina had transformed Owen Bramley’s sprawling bedroom into a nursery complete with everything Antoinette would need and more. Carolina was still active and in good health for a woman in her eighties, but on several occasions Willie and Caine had to keep her from doing the work herself. As the temperature dropped outside, the new life within Antoinette grew and the anticipation of a baby in the house grew with it. Except for dreams of Opari, I rarely even thought about the Meq. Then, during the last week of February, everything changed.

  Carolina loved Walt Disney movies and on Monday, February 22, we had just returned home after seeing a matinee at the Fox Theatre. The animation in the film was excellent and the story one of Carolina’s favorites. It was the classic by J. M. Barrie about a boy who never grew old—Peter Pan. She was making coffee and laughing at the irony when the telephone rang. On the second ring, she asked, “Z, would you get that?”