Chapter 64

 

Jared

 

 

Mimi, coming to a sort of vague consciousness Sunday afternoon, had nothing to say to any of them; she gazed without recognition at her husband, Dr. Frank, Clena, Issio and Jared, Dr. Maarchesin and Zarei, and turned her head away. If the fly had taken possession of her, she was being uncharacteristically quiet about it.

"It is sort of like possession, isn't it?" Clyde argued out in the living room. "There are religions that still have rites of exorcism, aren't there?"

"You are going to go and find a priest of one of these religions and tell him what?" said Issio.

"Besides, these creatures are not of your worlds," said Zarei. "No rites designed for your worlds are likely to work upon them." And this was a remark that caused Jared to ponder the creatures of his worlds these rites were likely to work upon, not a thought that had previously occurred to him.

"So keep her sedated," Dr. Frank told Clena, "and see what happens. At least she's come out of her coma; this is a good thing, people."

"Why doesn't it feel like a good thing?" inquired Jared.

He was having bad thoughts about it all; he was having visions of Mimi in restraints, on a narrow bed in a small, closed room, muttering in drug-induced dreams. He had seen such places. He had, after all, taken his Bachelors in psychology. The instructors had assured the students that research was going on right now to find drugs to help these individuals in their private hells. The instructors assured the students that eventually drugs would be found to handle any and all of the cases that would come up in their future practices.

Jared had his doubts about this in the ordinary course of things, and he was pretty sure no one was developing a drug to deal with someone possessed by a homicidal fly.

Dr. Frank departed to catch up with his less interesting patients. Jared went home to find Ann and Cara and Maud clustered around the breakfast bar, where Ann had spread printouts to cover the entire surface. "Just a few blue and white streamers," she greeted him as he walked in the door. "And with the bells and the flowers I think that should be plenty, don't you?"

"The reception," said Cara, looking tired, "is less than a week away. Ann came by to remind me."

"There's a vase out on our front porch," said Jared. "We could fill it with blue and white palm trees." He was glad to see Cara relax into a giggle. He stopped behind her and put his arms around her, and she leaned back against him. The printouts showed an appalling amount of wedding-related miscellany, fake flowers and ribbons and bows and lace and white trellises entwined with various forms of vegetation and white doves with hearts and flowers in their snouts and interlocked wedding rings and flower garlands, lighted and otherwise, and, of course, the bells, trimmed with an assortment of decorations, some that rang, some that played music – the sort Ann had her eye on – and some that just hung there, dripping ornamentation.

Maud was studying a noter with a scale drawing of a room, furnished with several rectangular objects labeled "Table"; she was moving the objects about with a fingernail, apparently trying to get the perfect arrangement. "Twenty-one guests from the neighborhood," she said, "counting Mimi; one can always hope. Jared's work team from the Institute. The Drs. Wood. That would make twenty-six, am I right?"

"Sandra Ott is married, so that makes twenty-seven. And you have to come," said Cara matter-of-factly. Not looking up from the noter, Maud raised her eyebrow. "You're my mother, remember?" said Cara; it was not possible to decipher her meaning exactly, Jared found. "So that's twenty-eight, and if Lalia comes – and you want Carter, of course," she said to Jared.

"Thirty," said Maud.

"If you ask That Man," said Ann darkly, "I'm not coming."

Jared, thinking of blue and white streamers, knew a brief impulse to invite Chazaerte on the spot, but he resisted it.

"He seems to be my brother," said Cara with restraint. "We have to ask him. Zarei, too."

"May I inquire," said Maud, "how you intend to introduce me to your Drs. Wood?"

"A very old friend of Jared's," said Cara instantly, and she and Maud looked at each other, expressionless; Ann drew in a breath and held it, looking from one of them to the other, and Jared stood very still holding his bride against him.

"Brat," said Maud, and they burst into laughter at exactly the same moment. Jared and Ann looked at each other in bewildered relief; at least there would not be bloodshed, he thought, and realized that Maud and Cara were, somehow, working out a relationship.

"All right," said Maud, putting down the noter. "So invite your Dr. Frank, and that will make thirty-one. I will, if you wish, convey your invitations to Lalia and Carter, and Chazaerte and Zarei, if you want, although I think Zarei will be afraid to come, with Sofi there. That will make thirty-two or thirty-three, depending on her decision."

Jared counted it up in his head; the sum didn't come out quite the same. "You know what?" he said to Cara. "They're counting thirty-three guests; they aren't counting us. We can go out to dinner and a show and have time for a drink or two, maybe some dancing, while they're at the reception."

"That would be lovely, but I don't know how to dance," Cara reminded him.

"Oh, dear," said Ann, "you have to lead the dancing, you know. I wonder if we could fit in lessons this week. There's a studio over on 51^st –"

"No, no, that's no good; she should go to the one up on Central 110^th ," said Maud, flipping to the phone directory. "You ought to go too, Jared, so your styles match."

"What dance?" demanded Jared. "Who's leading what dance?"

"You like to dance," said Maud, waving his objections away. "He always did," she told Cara, "and he's good at it, of course; he could probably teach you himself, but for an occasion this important, I think –"

"I'll call for an appointment," said Ann, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

Jared let go of Cara with one arm to reach across the breakfast bar and remove the phone from Ann's hand with his most charming smile. "No appointments," he said. "No studios. No dances; the banquet room is too small for that. No," he said, as Ann opened her mouth to propose a solution to that problem. "That's the room we reserved. That's the room we're going to use. Without blue and white streamers. Without musical bells. With the D'ubians to play music, and Al's cake at the head table. Without a fountain," he said, as Ann opened her mouth again. "With flowers?" he asked Cara, and she nodded.

"Summer flowers," she said. "All kinds of colors, red and orange and yellow and blue and pink. If the tables are put together, sort of a square or a U-shape, we can have a bouquet on each table, a centerpiece."

"Table runners," said Ann hopefully. "Lace with blue and white –"

"Kingsleys can handle that," said Jared, not wanting to find out what was going to be blue and white with the lace. "Plain white tablecloths will do very well, I think." Cara nodded emphatically.

"Menus," she said; "should we do buffet? Or two or three entrées?"

"That," said Jared, "you girls can work out. And drinks. No blue punch," he said quickly, before Ann could suggest it. She gave him a hurt look, the forlorn face of an orphan cast forth into a bitter winter's night; he managed not to laugh. "You can work on Lillian's wedding," he reminded her. "Remember? Autumn colors? Bride in yellow?"

"That won't be for months," said Ann sadly, looking down at the printouts. "These bells are so sweet," she sighed.

"I’m sure Lillian would love them," said Cara.

"Candles?" said Ann meekly.

"Absolutely candles," Jared assured her, handing back her phone.

The fuss out in the street caught his attention; he looked out the front window just as the Bahtan male burst through the gate across the street and headed down the sidewalk, making for the D'ubian corner. This one was beginning to look familiar, Jared thought; he noticed the flowered shorts and the polished horns. The girls had hung on to this one for a long time, relatively speaking.

This could be because he was more easily caught than most; he looked in good condition, a strong fellow, in fact, but he wasn't running very fast. The front door of the Bahtan house banged; Clena shouted, "There he is!" and she and Mutai burst out of their gate. The male put on a small spurt of speed, making for the wooded area on the corner by Al's house, but Clena and Mutai caught up with him before he reached the trees. Mutai made a fine tackle, bringing him down, and Clena grabbed his wrists and Mutai clamped onto his ankles and they lifted him between them. He made a sort of plunge, which didn't bother them at all, and they packed him back across the lawn and down the street, and into their open gate.

"How long have they had that one?" Ann asked, looking out the kitchen window.

"For weeks," said Cara. "They must be having a lot of fun with him."

"Interesting," said Maud, flipping through the noter; catching Jared's quizzical eye upon her, she smiled sweetly.

 

"And Maud, Mother, sitting there just egging her on," said Cara. "I didn't dare look at her; I knew I'd start laughing. And Ann means well, you know. It's a good sign she's willing to think about streamers and dancing lessons instead of brooding about Charles No-Last-Name, don't you think?"

"Yes, but I wish she'd concentrate on Lillian," said Jared, toying with her hair. It felt soft and silky and it smelled good. After Ann departed to show Lillian the printouts, and Maud vanished to catch up with Dr. Maarchesin and Carter, Cara and Jared had ended up sprawled on the couch, Cara a light welcome weight on top of him. "We don't have to do this reception if you don't want to," he reminded her. "It won't make us any less married if we don't have a reception."

"Actually," said Cara, "I think we do have to." She giggled at his expression, and kissed his chin lightly. "I was talking with Sofi," she said. "They went to the registry office downtown at the end of the school year. Issio doesn’t have family, and Sofi's family wouldn't come, wouldn't have anything to do with the wedding. None of the Zamuaon community approved. So it was just the two of them and, she said, it was romantic, just like our wedding. But the next day, some of the other teachers at the school, people who knew them, who were friendly, got together and gave them a little party to celebrate, and Sofi said it really pleased her and Issio; it was people they knew showing that they accepted the marriage. Celebrated it. It made it complete."

" I can see that," Jared agreed.

"Getting married is a public statement," said Cara. "The thing between us; we want to be together, and stay together, and face life together, and we can count on each other for help and support and love." She smiled down at him; he loved the light in her eyes. "I have your back," she said. "You have mine."

"Absolutely," he said.

"So the wedding makes it public and official. And the reception," she continued, "makes it public and official that our friends – our families, really – accept and approve of our marriage. So I think we do need to have it. Just not with musical bells and streamers."

"But with your mother," he said, daring to bring it up, and he was relieved when she laughed.

"We really should bring that awful vase and make a centerpiece out of it," she said. "What a shame I can't introduce her to the Drs. Wood properly! What are we going to tell them, really?"

Jared had been giving some thought to this, so he actually had an answer. "We're going to tell them at least part of the truth," he said. "Probably most of it. Possibly even that she's your actual mother. They need to know." She gazed at him in surprise. "Carter says he can translate at least some of the glyphs," he said. "Do you realize what a step forward that will be? And how can we conceal the presence of an entire new species that is already here – and the Its, a new threat? I can't see how we can do anything else but tell the Drs. Wood what is happening. It goes beyond personal considerations now; it affects the entire Alliance. They need to know."

Braced up with her arms on his chest, Cara weighed the matter soberly. "Oh, wow," she said finally, "to coin a phrase." They smiled at each other. "You may be right," she said. "It's been so weird, and we've all been used to trying to hide it, because who would believe us – but you may be right. The Azuri/zai committees need to know." They looked at each other; Jared could feel Cara with him, revolving in their minds the implications; for once he could almost read her.

"Should we tell them? Maud. Her people," she asked finally.

"I think we have to," he said, and she nodded.

"Yes, we do, don't we."

"I'll talk to them tonight," said Jared, "or whenever we get together back in the conference room. Are you coming?" She nodded. "Good," he said, relieved that she would be there to back him up, however they reacted. He had her back; she had his; he liked that.

"And Gina is coming," said Cara, "because she's been part of it and she wants to know what we find out. She's reporting to Sofi, you know, because Sofi won't come with Zarei there." She considered. "Do you think they could be a threat to the baby?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't think I entirely trust them," he admitted.

"I actually like them," said Cara unexpectedly. "I do," she said to his raised eyebrows. "Including Maud. My mother. Imagine that. But she's –" She fiddled with the neck of his T-shirt, getting it arranged just right. "I see why you and she – because she's a remarkable person," she said, a little awkwardly. "And so are you, so you sort of go together."

"We're out of sync," he said. "The story ended. You and I –"

"I know that," Cara said, and gave him a wonderful smile, love and trust and promise. "I do. I just wanted to say that I understand how it was. And I actually like her anyway. But you're right; I don't know how far we can trust them in general. We don't know what they want, do we, and we don't know what they're willing to do to get it."

"So we need to be careful," he said, and she nodded and put her head down on his chest; he ran his hand over her hair. They were both tired, late difficult nights catching up with them; it felt good just to lie here, warm and close and together. It felt good to know that whatever else the universe felt inspired to throw at them, they had each other.

He lay on the couch watching the sunlight on the ceiling and realized, after a little while, that Cara was asleep, and he was very close to it himself. He yawned and let his eyes close all by themselves, too relaxed to fight it any longer.

A hammering on the front door brought Cara to a sitting position, rubbing her eyes, and roused Jared from warm dark depths of sleep. "Hey, boss!" shouted Patterson, on the front porch. "You in there?"

"We could stay right here and not make a sound," he told Cara, "and after awhile he'll have to go away. We don't have his thumb print registered, luckily."

"It's probably something important," said Cara, without enthusiasm, and she rolled off Jared and the couch and padded barefoot to the door. Jared sat up, trying to shake off the shreds of sleep that still clung to him.

Patterson bounded in, full of enthusiasm for a man who had been up until four in the morning, exploring virtual constructions in the conference room. "Lalia just popped in," he said, sounding as if Lalia lived down the block and "popping in" involved walking up the steps and across the porch and ringing the doorbell. It made Jared ponder the amazing adaptability of his species, not to mention the other three Alliance species represented in the neighborhood.

"And what did Lalia want?" he asked, yawning.

"She says Carter would like to look at the arches again tonight," said Patterson briskly. "I thought maybe about eight or nine, if that works for you. They want you to come too, so I thought I had better check."

"One of these days we're going to run into Weston," said Jared, thinking without pleasure of bringing yet another person into the circle. Weston probably wouldn't care, though; he would play with the projector, look with lukewarm interest at Maud's people, and pay no further attention. Unless he asked pointed questions, Jared thought they didn't need to tell him much of anything.

The Drs. Wood were another matter.

"Yes, eight or nine, whatever works," said Jared. "Okay with you, sweetheart?"

"Sure," said Cara. "I'll tell Gina. I ought to get over to the Hardesty house, too. See how Lillian and Willis are doing. See if Ann talked Lillian into lace table runners."

Her phone chimed just as she pulled on her sandals; balancing one-footed, she glanced at the indicator, sighed, and answered with a lack of enthusiasm. "Yes, Ann," she said. "I was just going over there."

She had the volume turned down, but even so, Jared could hear the crying on the other end of the line. "Ann?" said Cara, and the crying continued.

"Not Chazaerte again," said Jared, and made a move toward the door and Cara caught his hand, holding the phone away from her mouth.

"No, you can't go off like a caveman and kill him," she said. "I know you want to protect us all, but you can't go after Chazaerte; I guess he's my brother."

"I wasn't going to kill him, sweetheart," said Jared, surprised at how well she read him without Ears. "I was just going to try to communicate with him. And it's basic programming, protecting the women and children."

"Comes along with the Y chromosome," she agreed. "And it's nice, really; I like it, that you care enough to take care of us, but – "

"It's my mother!" screamed Ann through the phone. "Cara, she knows my mother!" And then the crying resumed, and Cara broke the connection and put the phone into her pocket.

"I had better get up there," she said. "Mother must have told her about her mother."