She wonders if she should say anything about one common effect shared by most abductees. Most came back with a gift, something they were never able to do before, such as an ability to heal people. It's always something helpful to mankind. But she thinks she ought not to say anything about it. It might work to squelch something that will just show itself. The abductee is often the last to know….
“Why would the government cover it up?” he asks. “If they know aliens are here and they can show themselves any time they want to, wouldn't the government want to leak the information out to prepare us? Otherwise, I would think the shock of discovery might be cause for more chaos than people say there would be if it came out that the government was lying to us.”
“Jonah, I think we're in for a shocker. But it's not that spaceships and ETs exist. That may be only the face of it. I was going to advise you about that—don't get caught up in the dog and pony show. Something a lot more mysterious is going on than invasion from outer space. If they are aliens advanced enough to come here and take us any time they want to, and escape detection, then we don't have a chance anyway, and the government would know this. I think more than a few people are capitalizing on the phenomenon, twisting it this way or that, for their own agendas. But the reality of it—that's something only people who experience it can begin to fathom.”
“I sure as hell don't fathom it.”
“But you know it's some kind of real.”
He sighs heavily.
“I think the aliens are a mirror,” she says. “You can learn a lot about people by what they project onto the UFO phenomenon. Some see the promise of the Utopian dream—aliens will help us triumph over evil, or will initiate us into the Cosmic Federation. Others believe they're God's dark angels, come to reap the harvest. Others see them as invaders and predators, which describes stupid human behavior, if you ask me. But for some, UFOs and even abductions can be a catalyst for change in the way we see ourselves, the Earth, the whole universe, God. It's an invitation to discover what's in our own minds and hearts.”
“Maybe some just turn into blobs,” he says.
“Blobs?”
“It messes with your mind so much, you no longer feel a part of the community, but you don't quest for answers either. You're in a state of dull shock the rest of your life.”
“Yes, I think that happens. Not a very curious person, I would say. Someone with beliefs so rigid, they can't incorporate anything new.” She studies him artfully. “I think for some the phenomenon is an invitation—for others it's a summoning.”
“A summoning…”
She points at the Bible. “Story of Jonah. He might have thought the call to Nineveh was an invitation, but he found out it was a summoning, didn't he? And he wasn't too happy about it, as I recall.”
“I don't think he got it,” Jonah says.
“So what'd he do after the story in the Bible ends?”
“I'm supposed to know?”
“You have a good imagination.”
“I'm afraid he was a blob. He never did get it.”
“What should he have gotten to transcend his blobness?”
“That a man's life is not his own.”
“That's a cheery message!”
“Did he have a choice? A man chooses to be swallowed by a whale? I can see why he was angry afterward. Whole town is whooping it up, glad they escaped destruction. But my man, Jonah, is sitting out on the desert, nothing to show for what he went through.”
“Not even an atta-boy.”
“Yeah…he's just used and dumped. God doesn't really explain it to him. Like he cares about the city but not the messenger.”
Triss shrugs. “He either quests or he turns into a blob. Sounds to me like he has a choice.”
From his look, she senses she just trespassed a step beyond his comfort zone. It was a pretty excitable thing to say to someone fresh home from being manhandled by aliens. Should she take her nose and leave? Watching him, she thinks not. He's an emotional man but not fragile. He can handle being reminded he is responsible for his own life.
“Aunt Triss…do you remember a story called ‘Abra Cadabra'?”
She crinkles her brows, then smiles. “About people singing down mountains?”
“That's it. Did you first tell me that story? Or was it Grandma Mahoney?”
“Jonah! That was your story. That's when we all learned you had a storytelling ability.”
“Me? But I don't remember….”
“You were about eight years old, I think. We were all flabbergasted. But you were talking before you were a year old. Whole sentences.”
“No kidding?”
“Maybe Ed and Ivy never told you because they didn't want you to get the big head. I don't think you were spouting particle-wave theory or anything. You were just an early talker. And a storyteller from the get-go. If ever you go public with this, and people find out you were a storyteller as a kid, they'll use it to discredit you.”
“Forget that,” he growls. “No way I'm ever going public.” He squirms in his chair. “What good would it do if I did?”
“You got me. You can't tell human beings anything. They're all a bunch of numbskulls.”
“I just don't want to broadcast it.”
“My lips are zipped.”
They reflect on the dust mites twirling in the sunlight streaming in through the venetian blinds.
Triss sits up straight with a thought. “I remember something else about that story. The part that meant the most to me. What's the name of the sister who lived up in the castle with Abra Cadabra?”
“Crystal.”
“Crystal comes back a wise woman. She has a revolutionary message, something that shocks the whole community. Let's see…don't tell me…she tells them they won't be able to sing down the mountains unless they include the old witch because…I remember the lesson, but not the way you put it—” she coaxes with her hand.
“Because no one crosses alone.”
“That's it. Unconditional love. So the universal message of loving your neighbor as yourself has higher implications. It's not just a principle for good behavior. Literally, if you don't love your neighbor, you won't get free, you won't advance, your magic won't work.”
“I couldn't have made up that story.”
“Maybe you don't know yourself. Maybe that was Bible Jonah's problem. He could only see himself as a man coerced to act as a messenger. His heart and brain weren't yet synchronized.”
They sit without speaking for a few moments. Triss can feel the thing weighing on him.
“Toss a turban and a rose in the air—which weighs more?”
“The turban, I suppose.”
“Nope. Up in the air, they weigh the same. Can you disprove it? You put them on a scale, they're not in the air anymore.”
“Yeah, but if you weigh them both beforehand, and you know the laws of gravity—”
“Careful, Jonah. Your mind can be a trap.”
“A turban and rose…” He strokes his beard, his eyes seeming to see something in another galaxy.
Leaving him, Triss stands outside the door a moment, wondering if she should have told him about his brother's name showing up on a list of CIA agents. Something cautions he's got enough to think about for now. Since being around Zion, Triss is becoming more aware of such inner nudges. Maybe all the dwellers at Jo's Abode are going to develop the so-called psychic gifs some say we all have. Then we won't call them paranormal anymore. It'll be abnormal not to be aware! Triss has a feeling a good chunk of the human race is already there…that'll be a shocker…when we realize it. Then everyone's turban is going to fall off….
Zion, Avery, and Coral are seated at the table when Jonah comes into the kitchen. Triss is lighting two white tapers as he sits down at the head of the table, Coral on one side, Zion on the other.
His perusal of the table seems critical. Surely his frown is not at the turkey, glowing golden and smelling sumptuous. Surely he finds no fault with t
he Waldorf salad, string beans and almonds, mashed potatoes, dressing, gravy, cranberries, homemade rolls, and butter. Maybe he wants dessert first, Coral Kay is thinking. Pumpkin, mincemeat, and cherry pies up on the counter. Daddy sometimes eats dessert first because life is short, he said.
“Where are the colored eggs?” he finally says.
“That's Easter, Daddy!”
“Oh!”
A collective sigh begins the passing of dishes. To everyone's relief, Jonah seems to be his old self. Triss hands him the carving knife.
Now he looks agitated again.
“Uh, since we pay lip service to this being Jesus' birthday, maybe we ought to say grace.”
The diners quickly bow their guilty heads. A moment of silence passes. Triss, who is still standing, leans over and whispers, “Go ahead, Reverend.” Jonah gives her a dirty look.
“Thank you, Lord, for all the food. Please bless it. Amen.”
Jonah is unusually quiet throughout dinner, but no one seems to notice. Half past seconds, a lively conversation ensues about the progress being made on getting approval for installing hookups to create several mobile home spaces on the property. Jonah seems to be listening carefully to Avery's update on discussions with a friend of his who is on the county planning commission.
“I'm fairly certain your proposal will be on the agenda for the January meeting,” he says importantly. “We should all be there.”
Jonah doesn't flinch at Avery's use of the pronoun we. He has that faraway look in his eyes again.
“Lulu already committed to moving her home on the property,” Triss informs Jonah, but he seems not to hear. “Lulu Greystone?”
“Jo's friend,” Zion says, also noting that Jonah seems to be in a daze.
He waves his hand across the air, as if erasing an invisible blackboard. He shakes his head.
“Nope. I don't see Lulu. Frame's going to move out here.” His eyes are bright; he smiles, slaps the table. Then he suddenly frowns and looks at everyone, as if just now discovering he isn't alone.
“Frame?” he says.
“That's what you said, Daddy. Frame is going to move here.”
“Ridiculous.” He flicks his hand. “He has that big house on Joshua Drive. Why would he move into a mobile home on our property?”
No one knew.
“When he does, we'll ask him,” Triss says.
While Zion, Avery and Jonah sip coffee after their fill of pie, Triss is preparing Coral for her violin debut, wrestling her into the new red taffeta dress she bought for her.
“He'll love it,” Triss assures. “Remember, don't try hard, just play. It's fun.” Coral nods. Her smile is waxen.
She will never be a Yehudi Menuhin, Triss knows, but she was quick to pick up on the fundamentals, and her enthusiasm will make up for what she lacks in virtuoso qualities. Conceivably, she could master the instrument well enough to teach. Triss sees in Coral a teacher's soul. She'll be hell on Little Brother! Lucky fellow. Lovingly, she watches Coral clumsily applying rosin to the bow. From the start, the child showed respect for the instrument.
“Be right back…” Triss steps down the hall and motions for the adults to go into the living room.
Jonah sits on the sofa with Thunderpaws in his lap, a shy distance from Zion, and Avery is sitting tall in the stuffed chair with a sanguine smile when Great Aunt and Coral, violins in hand, make their solemn entrance. They bow low, and everyone applauds.
“Jonah, because you missed her first concert, Coral is going to play for you ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’”
“It's hard, Daddy.”
“Every note you play will be like dessert to my ears, Darlin'. Serenade me, Sugar Pie.”
Coral looks up at Triss, then begins earnestly to saw out the tune. When she's done, Jonah clasps both hands over his heart. “That was the most moving rendition of ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb' I have ever heard.”
“Wait'll you hear ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'!”
“Can my heart stand it?”
“Yes.” Without missing a note, she plays to her father's gawking mouth and loving eyes. When she finishes, the whistles and clapping are so raucous, Thunderpaws jumps down, leaps out the cat door.
With a huge sigh, Coral falls against her father.
Triss and Avery are preparing to play a duet on violin and harmonica when Coral says, “Wait!” She runs back to her room, returning with her Barbie dolls, including the one Zion gave her, dressed inappropriately in a swimsuit with a leopard-skin print.
“Jane.” She shows Jonah.
“Where's Tarzan?”
She points at Ken. “He can be Tarzan.” She lines up the dolls along the hearth, with Jane in her lap.
In front of the tree, Triss and Avery begin to play a haunting rendition of “Greensleeves.” Even though it's Avery playing a harmonica, and even though he's dressed in a green suede sports jacket, and a tie with pink angels, Jonah is impressed by the music, with hardly an ill thought toward the man.
He leans toward Zion, whispers, “You play an instrument?”
She shakes her head. “I dance.”
“Dancing and music go together,” he says stupidly.
“Do you play an instrument?”
“Tambourine.” He looks for the smirk, but she just nods and turns her starry eyes back on the performers.
When they are finished, Jonah bursts out, “We're going to have a band!”
Everyone looks at him.
“I mean…we already have one.” His cheeks are red.
Before the sun sets, Avery excuses himself, saying he promised friends he would stop by for dessert. After the women and Coral hug him, Jonah walks him to the door and thanks him for helping out the women while he was gone. He shakes Avery's hand.
“I thoroughly enjoyed it. They're wonderful women, Jonah. You're very fortunate.”
“Um, they aren't exactly mine.”
Avery is lingering. His sensitive face is nervous with something not said.
“Jonah…if you ever need to talk about what happened at Star Rock…I would be very interested.”
Jonah squeezes his shoulder. “It was a spiritual quest, Avery. When Jesus went to the desert for forty days, did he tell everyone everything he experienced out there?”
“Uh…sorry, I'm not too up on the Bible.”
“And I'm not Jesus. Avery—remember that. It's important.”
Avery nods, perplexed. “Well, thanks for the wonderful dinner. It was a pleasure.” He opens the door, steps out, closes it.
Jonah leans his back against the door a moment. He turns around, opens the door. “Avery—” He caught him before he got in his van. “You come back soon. And bring your harmonica.”
Avery's smile hurts his heart.
As she helps Zion clean up the kitchen, Triss can feel the tiredness deep in her bones, still she hopes Jonah will join her and Zion for a chat before bedtime. He was so easygoing earlier, maybe he'll be ready to give them at least the highlights of his experience. Maybe he doesn't remember what happened, but still an experiencer has a lot of emotional stuff to work through. You don't come back from forty days out on any desert and just resume your normal life. No one knows for sure the meaning or reason for the abduction phenomenon, but one thing certain—it impacts everyone involved.
Triss is ready to be impacted.
But after he finishes reading a story to Coral, he stops by the kitchen, waves, and says he's going to bed.
“Rats,” Triss says after he's out of earshot.
“It's been a long day,” Zion says.
“Longest day of my life, I think.”
Jonah pops his head around the corner. “Zion—thanks again for the pen.” Then he disappears.
“You're blushing!”
“I am not.” Zion quickly turns to hide her face.
“Well,” Triss says simply. She seriously wonders if these two were both asleep when they made the baby. Watching them, you'd think they hadn't even been proper
ly introduced yet, much less lovers. She will have to do something about that. Beatrice Mary Mahoney's Dancing School…
Hands clasped in his lap, Jonah sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the telephone. This is the first Christmas in the Valley without a visit with Frame and his family. He's surprised Coral didn't say something about it. Frame's youngest, Julie, is a couple of years older than Coral, and the two girls get along fabulously. Benji, age ten, and Ginger, thirteen, are good company even for adults, and Frame's wife, Laurie, is a prize.
He fights down a feeling of hurt at Frame for not calling to see if he was home. That's unfair. He's the chicken who should have picked up the phone.
Loudest in his mind is recall of the times he and Frame laughed about stories of alien abduction. Not about UFOs—they agreed there had to be something to it, maybe signs of a secret government project, or maybe probes from outer space. If the latter, the vehicles weren't manned, of course. It just didn't make sense, ETs would look similar to humans.
He was flat-out lying to Triss. He did remember being on that spaceship. He shudders thinking about it. But it isn't a case for alien abduction! That's the damndest thing. On the surface, that's what it looks like, but he knows something more happened to him up there, or out there, wherever the hell he was for forty days. That's the most unreal part; he feels he was gone for no more than three days. Was it the difference in time between dimensions? And yet…He strokes his beard…physical evidence he was gone somewhere long enough to grow a beard.
He wishes it weren't Christmas. If he doesn't call Frame, he's a poor friend. But he doesn't feel ready to talk to him. Maybe in a week or so…
He picks up the receiver, speed-dials Frame's number. Ginger answers, sounding disappointed the call is for her father. As soon as he hears Frame's voice, he knows he did the right thing. But his heart feels wadded up in his throat.
“Frame…”
“Jonah! Where are you?”
“On the other side. I died. I'm calling you from Afterlife.”
“I get no relief even if you're dead, huh?”
“It was all your loving thoughts about me. You just won't let go and let me rest in peace.”
“Yeah, right. How long you been home?”
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