Justice Keepers Saga--Books 1-3, page 91
“More to the point,” Crystal chimed in. “I would gladly give away every last one of those properties for the chance to learn about the larger universe. I think the xenophobia peddled by conservative pundits is absolute nonsense.”
“Agreed,” Lauren muttered.
That was unexpected. Anna had only spoken to Lauren a few times, and most of those had happened over three years ago. Back then, the other woman had been less than eager to say two words to her. She had blamed Anna for dragging her little brother into a conflict that had nothing to do with him.
Perhaps Lauren had changed her mind.
Jack took a sip from his glass of water, then set it down on the table with an audible thunk. “I'd like to point out that of all the people sitting here, I'm the one whose life was turned upside down.”
He turned his head to look at her with a stern expression, his blue eyes glittering in the soft light. “And if I had to do it again…” he said with a nod. “I would. In a heartbeat. My life is better thanks to Anna and Summer.”
Anna smiled.
For a while, they just ate in silence, and she had to admit, she was grateful for the lapse in conversation. After some coaxing from Jack, she opted to try the stuffing, and… Damn! Apparently breadcrumbs mixed with celery and onions could be quite delicious. Noted for future reference.
The bedroom was utterly dark when Anna woke in the middle of the night, and yet she could make out every detail of every surface. Crystal had insisted that she take Jack's old bedroom while Jack slept on the couch in the basement. In a way, it was almost like those first weeks here on Earth.
A dresser across from the foot of the bed supported a series of Star Wars figurines, and there were several posters up on the walls. The closet to her left was left open just a touch, and she could sense some of Jack's old clothes hanging there. This place, these old knickknacks from her best friend's childhood, were almost enough to kill the memory of the wretched dream she had suffered through.
Slade.
In her dream, she was standing in front of him, watching as he inched closer and closer to the SlipGate. Somehow, despite the fact that he had said nothing to confirm her suspicions, she just knew that he would set off a bomb if she let him escape. So she put a bullet in his chest, and the life-support systems went down.
Anna sat up.
She winced, burying her face in both hands. “Of course I'd have nightmares,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “Why should a family gathering do anything to put it out of my mind?”
Anna looked up and blinked the tears out of her eyes. Her throat was dry, and she wasn't going to get any sleep unless she worked the restlessness out of her system. What she needed was a quick walk to stretch her legs.
She got out of the bed.
Dressed in a pair of Crystal's sweat pants and one of Jack's t-shirts, Anna grunted as she paced across the hardwood floor. The layout of the room was there in her mind, and despite the lack of illumination, she could see that the door was half open.
In the hallway, she found a railing that overlooked the stairs to the first floor and caught the sounds of slow, rhythmic breathing from one of the other rooms. Lauren or Steve, perhaps.
Stifling a yawn with her fist, Anna squeezed her eyes shut. Try to put it out of your head, she thought, peering over the railing. The more you obsess about it, the harder it will be to relax.
At the foot of the stairs, Anna could see the front door looking out on the street, a touch of soft amber light coming in through the large rectangular window. There were voices speaking; she could hear them clearly now.
Anna turned down the hallway.
“I can't believe you,” Crystal said in a frenzied whisper that came from the kitchen. “You know we have a guest in our home, and yet you go out of your way to insult her at every opportunity.”
“That woman took my son away from me,” Arthur replied softly. “She made him into something that I don't understand.”
“Don't be stupid, Arthur.”
Anna leaned against the wall with a hand pressed to her stomach, feeling like she'd been carrying a stone on her back. Well, at least we're done with the ambiguity, she thought. No more wondering what the man really thinks.
“Our idiot son agreed to let them put an alien in his body.” The sound of footsteps told her that Arthur was pacing across the room. “Because he was young and naïve and obsessed with that idealistic nonsense you stuff into his brain.”
“You used to believe that idealistic nonsense.”
“Then I grew up.”
Of course you'd think that. How many people try to justify prejudicial views with appeals to their so-called maturity?
“I can't do this anymore, Arthur.”
“Do what?”
“This.” It was just a simple word without a trace of heat in its delivery: a statement so matter-of-fact it might have been delivered by a robot. “The kids are gone now, and we hardly ever speak anymore.”
“So you want out?”
“The man I married actually believed in things.”
“Yeah, well thirty years spent locking up petty offenders has a way of changing a man's perspective. If Jack does this job long enough, he'll change too. Trust me; it's only a matter of time.”
Anna shut her eyes, one small tear rolling over her cheek to drip from her chin. Not if I have anything to say about it, she thought. Companion hear me, I will keep that man's spirit alive.
“Our son has been to space, Arthur. Three years ago, less than a thousandth of a percent of this planet's population could say that. Meeting Anna was the best thing that ever happened to Jack. He has opportunities I would never have dreamed of. But most importantly, she makes him believe.”
“In what?”
“In the idea that what he does matters.”
“Yeah, too bad it came at the cost of everything he is. I mean, the boy has an alien living in his body. Can you even call him human anymore?”
That last one hit Anna hard. Those words…So similar to the ones Alia had used all those years ago. People were people wherever you went. Some would hold on to their old prejudices no matter how hard you tried to pry them free.
A soft wisping announced Crystal's approach, and she emerged from the kitchen a moment later, standing in the hallway in a fluffy pink robe. She shook her head and let out a sigh of frustration.
Turning on her heel, she marched through the narrow hallway and froze when she saw Anna. “Sorry, I didn't know you were there,” she whispered. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough,” Anna replied. “I'm sorry.”
“It's all right.”
The woman shuffled past her with slumped shoulders, making her way toward the foot of the stairs. Wood creaking told her that Crystal had gone up to bed. It seemed she had to decide how much she wanted that glass of water, and as it happened, she wanted it quite a bit.
Anna started down the hallway with fists balled at her sides, shaking her head in disgust. Last chance to back out. She stopped in front of the open doorway that led into the kitchen. You do this, and he'll despise you.
A small light over the stove provided just enough illumination for her to see Arthur sitting at the round table with a mug in his hand. He seemed to be staring out the window, lost in thought.
He froze with the cup halfway to his mouth, turning his head when he noticed her presence. “Something I can do for you?” he asked, arching one eyebrow. “Or have you come down here to correct yet another of my mistaken beliefs?”
Anna crossed her arms with a heavy sigh, scowling down at the floor. “Jack is as much your son today as he ever was,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. “But don't ever let him hear the words you spoke tonight. Because if he does, that will be the day that he stops being your son.”
She left him to think on that.
18
A small lamp on Melissa's desk bathed the bedroom in a soft, warm glow, providing just enough light for her to move around without tripping over anything. The dresser on her wall had a mirror that reflected her bed and the window behind her, revealing a few swirling snowflakes outside.
The sound of her father's footsteps in the hallway outside left her feeling uneasy. If the last three nights were any indication, she was in for yet another long discussion on the importance of making responsible decisions. Sometimes she wondered if middle-aged parents had simply forgotten what it was like to be young.
Of course, her father had a point. Aaron did have a way of pushing her into things she didn't want to do, and she sometimes gave in just to shut him up, That was a habit she would have to break…And that likely meant breaking up with him.
Someone knocked on her door.
Melissa sat on the edge of the mattress with hands on her knees, her head down in disgrace. Here we go… she thought, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine. Just stay calm and take it like a woman.
“Melissa?”
She grimaced, trembling for a moment. “Come in,” she said, pressing fingers to her temples. The stress and anxiety were going to leave her with a killer migraine. “You can come in, Dad.”
The door swung open to reveal her father standing in the hallway with his hands in his pockets. Harry refused to look up at her, choosing instead to focus intently on the gray carpet. “Do you want to come to dinner?”
“I think I'd rather be alone.”
“You love Christmas dinner.”
Sucking on her lower lip, Melissa looked up at him. “I do…” she admitted with a curt nod. “But I don't think now is the time for me to be indulging in the things I love. I'll grab some leftovers later.”
Her father wore a small smile as he turned his face up to the ceiling. “Melissa, you don't have to punish yourself forever,” he said. “Come on down. Your sister's here, and I invited Jena.”
With a sigh, she stood up.
Melissa paced across the room, working up the nerve to endure company. Right then, she really wanted to be alone. “Okay,” she murmured, stopping in front of her father. “But don't expect me to be chatty.”
The narrow hallway outside her room always made her feel a bit claustrophobic, and today was no exception. This time, however, she had to admit that her anxiety was rooted in more than just a lack of elbow room. She felt like a prisoner following a guard down to the execution room.
The thought of facing her sister – of listening to Claire's endless curiosity about what would make her take drugs when she knew the dangers – was gnawing at her. On top of that, there was Jena.
Melissa was hoping to ask the other woman for a letter of recommendation when she finished high school, but there was very little chance of that happening now. Not after she had screwed up so royally.
At the foot of the stairs, she found Jena standing with arms folded, dressed in a pair of black pants and a teal-green shirt with an empire waist. She wore her short auburn hair parted in the middle. “Hey, kid,” she said.
“Hello,” Melissa replied.
“Ready to eat?”
Melissa bowed her head to the other woman. “I guess so,” she said, brushing a strand of hair off her face. “Get Claire settled in, and I'll make sure everything is good to go.”
Her father paused on the very last step, bracing one hand against the wall. “Already taken care of,” he said without turning. “If you'll look to your right, you'll see the dining room table is already set.”
He wasn't kidding.
The long, narrow table had four empty plates sitting on the good placemats – and thank the Lord for that; she wasn't sure she trusted her father to handle things correctly – along with a serving dish full of vegetables, a plate of lean ham and two bowls filled with mashed potatoes and stuffing.
Harry did the cooking in this house, and for one very good reason. Despite what the laws of physics would have you believe, given enough time in front of an oven, Melissa would eventually find a way to burn ice. No…she had no talent for the culinary arts, but she did know how to make company feel welcome. Christmas wasn't a time to be stingy with the nice silverware.
Now all they had to do was wait for Claire to decide she was finished playing with her video games, and that would require quite a bit of prodding from their father. To his credit, Harry managed it in less than five minutes.
Claire wore a thick pink sweatshirt and kept her hair done up in twin braids that fell over her shoulders. Her round face was starting to mature now that she was less than six months away from her tenth birthday.
Claire hopped into a chair across from Melissa, then looked up to stare at her with those big brown eyes. “Are we ready to eat?” she asked. “I'm starving.”
“Almost,” Melissa replied. “We have to say Grace.”
“Oh…”
Their father stood at the head of the table with a hand resting on his chair, a fierce scowl on his face. “Claire,” he began in that cautionary tone. “This is important to your sister. Do as you're told.”
Claire bit her lip as she lowered her eyes to stare into her lap. “All right,” she said with a shrug. “But make it quick.”
That might have bothered Melissa if it had come from someone just a little older, but children really didn't understand what they were saying. It wasn't superstition that fueled her desire to reach out to God; it was a desire for a connection, a need to know that she was part of the larger universe.
She kept the prayer short and to the point, thanking the Lord for her loving family, her wonderful parents and her sister. She also made mention of Jena. Though things had started out awkward, she was glad to have a kind of…cool aunt that she could go to when she needed advice. Saying that out loud made the other woman blush.
Dinner was delicious, as always. She had to give her father this much credit: years of being a single parent had given him a real flair for making a hastily-prepared meal taste like a gourmet feast. They made smalltalk, though it was clear that Harry and Jena were avoiding the topic of her recent lapse in judgment.
The thought of it hung in the air like a ghost, taunting her with whispers that only she could hear. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Her father and Jena were both smiling, and it seemed as though they were having a good time. Nevertheless, she still felt awkward whenever they looked at her.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Melissa shut her eyes. “School's good,” she said, sliding her chair closer to the table. “I got a ninety-two on my last test in AP calculus. I'm considering writing the SAT. You know, just in case.”
“In case of what?” Jena inquired.
Harry lifted a glass of wine, pausing for a moment to watch them through the dark liquid. “The Americans have a test you have to take if you want to attend one of their colleges,” he explained. “Were you thinking of going down south, Melissa?”
“Not too deeply.”
“Good,” he said. “I wouldn't want you to go.”
Melissa threw her head back, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “Come on, Dad,” she said, eyebrows rising. “There are SlipGates now. I could visit you every weekend for less than the price of a tank of gas.”
He frowned into his wine, his brows drawn together. “I suppose,” he said, giving his head a shake. “I just like the thought of having you nearby. That way I can be there when…when things get complicated.”
Crossing her arms, Jena leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. “She's growing up, Harry,” she muttered. “Sooner or later, you're going to have to learn to let go. Please don't make me use the words 'circle of life.'”
A scowl twisted Harry's features, and he buried his face in his hand. “We've been over this, Jen,” he muttered into his own palm. “When it comes to decisions like this, I have to make them alone.”
“Except it's not your decision!”
The outburst was probably unwise, but Melissa couldn't stop herself. She sat with hands folded in her lap, refusing to look at him. “Where I go to school is my decision, not yours, and no amount of screw-ups on my part will change that.”
“I didn't say it-”
Melissa bared her teeth like a snarling dog. “Furthermore,” she added, “I don't need you to leap to my rescue every time something goes wrong!”
When she looked up, her father was watching her with his lips pressed into a thin line, sweat glistening on his brow. “You certainly needed me the other night,” he said. “Don't talk to me about moving away until you prove you can be responsible.”
“Smooth, Harry,” Jena muttered under her breath. “Look, take it from somebody who lived through the whole teenage rebellious phase-”
“I don't want your advice.”
“Yeah, but-”
Melissa slid her chair back from the table with a loud scraping sound. That brought an abrupt end to the conversation, and she was thankful for it. She would not be the cause of a fight between the two of them. “If you're just going to argue,” she began, “then I'm just going to go upstairs.”
Trepidation welled up inside her, but she did her best to force it down. She hated being the centre of attention, and damn Aaron for his endless nagging! Yes, it had been her decision, but it was one she never would have made without him.
Tramping up the stairs brought her a little cathartic relief, but she was more than half expecting her father to call her back to the table. Fortunately, he never did. She took refuge in her room.
Melissa stood by the door with her arms folded, doubled over as she heaved out a deep breath. “Somebody shoot me,” she muttered, pacing over to her bed. “That's what I get for assuming things would run smoothly.”
She spent a great deal of time lying on her back and counting the little bumps of stucco on the ceiling. Somehow, she always lost count after four. They just seemed to blend together when you weren't looking.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at her door.
“Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal not her father but Jena, standing in the hallway with hands clasped in front of herself, her head bowed almost reverently. “I convinced your dad that we should talk.”
Melissa sat up.
“Agreed,” Lauren muttered.
That was unexpected. Anna had only spoken to Lauren a few times, and most of those had happened over three years ago. Back then, the other woman had been less than eager to say two words to her. She had blamed Anna for dragging her little brother into a conflict that had nothing to do with him.
Perhaps Lauren had changed her mind.
Jack took a sip from his glass of water, then set it down on the table with an audible thunk. “I'd like to point out that of all the people sitting here, I'm the one whose life was turned upside down.”
He turned his head to look at her with a stern expression, his blue eyes glittering in the soft light. “And if I had to do it again…” he said with a nod. “I would. In a heartbeat. My life is better thanks to Anna and Summer.”
Anna smiled.
For a while, they just ate in silence, and she had to admit, she was grateful for the lapse in conversation. After some coaxing from Jack, she opted to try the stuffing, and… Damn! Apparently breadcrumbs mixed with celery and onions could be quite delicious. Noted for future reference.
The bedroom was utterly dark when Anna woke in the middle of the night, and yet she could make out every detail of every surface. Crystal had insisted that she take Jack's old bedroom while Jack slept on the couch in the basement. In a way, it was almost like those first weeks here on Earth.
A dresser across from the foot of the bed supported a series of Star Wars figurines, and there were several posters up on the walls. The closet to her left was left open just a touch, and she could sense some of Jack's old clothes hanging there. This place, these old knickknacks from her best friend's childhood, were almost enough to kill the memory of the wretched dream she had suffered through.
Slade.
In her dream, she was standing in front of him, watching as he inched closer and closer to the SlipGate. Somehow, despite the fact that he had said nothing to confirm her suspicions, she just knew that he would set off a bomb if she let him escape. So she put a bullet in his chest, and the life-support systems went down.
Anna sat up.
She winced, burying her face in both hands. “Of course I'd have nightmares,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “Why should a family gathering do anything to put it out of my mind?”
Anna looked up and blinked the tears out of her eyes. Her throat was dry, and she wasn't going to get any sleep unless she worked the restlessness out of her system. What she needed was a quick walk to stretch her legs.
She got out of the bed.
Dressed in a pair of Crystal's sweat pants and one of Jack's t-shirts, Anna grunted as she paced across the hardwood floor. The layout of the room was there in her mind, and despite the lack of illumination, she could see that the door was half open.
In the hallway, she found a railing that overlooked the stairs to the first floor and caught the sounds of slow, rhythmic breathing from one of the other rooms. Lauren or Steve, perhaps.
Stifling a yawn with her fist, Anna squeezed her eyes shut. Try to put it out of your head, she thought, peering over the railing. The more you obsess about it, the harder it will be to relax.
At the foot of the stairs, Anna could see the front door looking out on the street, a touch of soft amber light coming in through the large rectangular window. There were voices speaking; she could hear them clearly now.
Anna turned down the hallway.
“I can't believe you,” Crystal said in a frenzied whisper that came from the kitchen. “You know we have a guest in our home, and yet you go out of your way to insult her at every opportunity.”
“That woman took my son away from me,” Arthur replied softly. “She made him into something that I don't understand.”
“Don't be stupid, Arthur.”
Anna leaned against the wall with a hand pressed to her stomach, feeling like she'd been carrying a stone on her back. Well, at least we're done with the ambiguity, she thought. No more wondering what the man really thinks.
“Our idiot son agreed to let them put an alien in his body.” The sound of footsteps told her that Arthur was pacing across the room. “Because he was young and naïve and obsessed with that idealistic nonsense you stuff into his brain.”
“You used to believe that idealistic nonsense.”
“Then I grew up.”
Of course you'd think that. How many people try to justify prejudicial views with appeals to their so-called maturity?
“I can't do this anymore, Arthur.”
“Do what?”
“This.” It was just a simple word without a trace of heat in its delivery: a statement so matter-of-fact it might have been delivered by a robot. “The kids are gone now, and we hardly ever speak anymore.”
“So you want out?”
“The man I married actually believed in things.”
“Yeah, well thirty years spent locking up petty offenders has a way of changing a man's perspective. If Jack does this job long enough, he'll change too. Trust me; it's only a matter of time.”
Anna shut her eyes, one small tear rolling over her cheek to drip from her chin. Not if I have anything to say about it, she thought. Companion hear me, I will keep that man's spirit alive.
“Our son has been to space, Arthur. Three years ago, less than a thousandth of a percent of this planet's population could say that. Meeting Anna was the best thing that ever happened to Jack. He has opportunities I would never have dreamed of. But most importantly, she makes him believe.”
“In what?”
“In the idea that what he does matters.”
“Yeah, too bad it came at the cost of everything he is. I mean, the boy has an alien living in his body. Can you even call him human anymore?”
That last one hit Anna hard. Those words…So similar to the ones Alia had used all those years ago. People were people wherever you went. Some would hold on to their old prejudices no matter how hard you tried to pry them free.
A soft wisping announced Crystal's approach, and she emerged from the kitchen a moment later, standing in the hallway in a fluffy pink robe. She shook her head and let out a sigh of frustration.
Turning on her heel, she marched through the narrow hallway and froze when she saw Anna. “Sorry, I didn't know you were there,” she whispered. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough,” Anna replied. “I'm sorry.”
“It's all right.”
The woman shuffled past her with slumped shoulders, making her way toward the foot of the stairs. Wood creaking told her that Crystal had gone up to bed. It seemed she had to decide how much she wanted that glass of water, and as it happened, she wanted it quite a bit.
Anna started down the hallway with fists balled at her sides, shaking her head in disgust. Last chance to back out. She stopped in front of the open doorway that led into the kitchen. You do this, and he'll despise you.
A small light over the stove provided just enough illumination for her to see Arthur sitting at the round table with a mug in his hand. He seemed to be staring out the window, lost in thought.
He froze with the cup halfway to his mouth, turning his head when he noticed her presence. “Something I can do for you?” he asked, arching one eyebrow. “Or have you come down here to correct yet another of my mistaken beliefs?”
Anna crossed her arms with a heavy sigh, scowling down at the floor. “Jack is as much your son today as he ever was,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. “But don't ever let him hear the words you spoke tonight. Because if he does, that will be the day that he stops being your son.”
She left him to think on that.
18
A small lamp on Melissa's desk bathed the bedroom in a soft, warm glow, providing just enough light for her to move around without tripping over anything. The dresser on her wall had a mirror that reflected her bed and the window behind her, revealing a few swirling snowflakes outside.
The sound of her father's footsteps in the hallway outside left her feeling uneasy. If the last three nights were any indication, she was in for yet another long discussion on the importance of making responsible decisions. Sometimes she wondered if middle-aged parents had simply forgotten what it was like to be young.
Of course, her father had a point. Aaron did have a way of pushing her into things she didn't want to do, and she sometimes gave in just to shut him up, That was a habit she would have to break…And that likely meant breaking up with him.
Someone knocked on her door.
Melissa sat on the edge of the mattress with hands on her knees, her head down in disgrace. Here we go… she thought, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine. Just stay calm and take it like a woman.
“Melissa?”
She grimaced, trembling for a moment. “Come in,” she said, pressing fingers to her temples. The stress and anxiety were going to leave her with a killer migraine. “You can come in, Dad.”
The door swung open to reveal her father standing in the hallway with his hands in his pockets. Harry refused to look up at her, choosing instead to focus intently on the gray carpet. “Do you want to come to dinner?”
“I think I'd rather be alone.”
“You love Christmas dinner.”
Sucking on her lower lip, Melissa looked up at him. “I do…” she admitted with a curt nod. “But I don't think now is the time for me to be indulging in the things I love. I'll grab some leftovers later.”
Her father wore a small smile as he turned his face up to the ceiling. “Melissa, you don't have to punish yourself forever,” he said. “Come on down. Your sister's here, and I invited Jena.”
With a sigh, she stood up.
Melissa paced across the room, working up the nerve to endure company. Right then, she really wanted to be alone. “Okay,” she murmured, stopping in front of her father. “But don't expect me to be chatty.”
The narrow hallway outside her room always made her feel a bit claustrophobic, and today was no exception. This time, however, she had to admit that her anxiety was rooted in more than just a lack of elbow room. She felt like a prisoner following a guard down to the execution room.
The thought of facing her sister – of listening to Claire's endless curiosity about what would make her take drugs when she knew the dangers – was gnawing at her. On top of that, there was Jena.
Melissa was hoping to ask the other woman for a letter of recommendation when she finished high school, but there was very little chance of that happening now. Not after she had screwed up so royally.
At the foot of the stairs, she found Jena standing with arms folded, dressed in a pair of black pants and a teal-green shirt with an empire waist. She wore her short auburn hair parted in the middle. “Hey, kid,” she said.
“Hello,” Melissa replied.
“Ready to eat?”
Melissa bowed her head to the other woman. “I guess so,” she said, brushing a strand of hair off her face. “Get Claire settled in, and I'll make sure everything is good to go.”
Her father paused on the very last step, bracing one hand against the wall. “Already taken care of,” he said without turning. “If you'll look to your right, you'll see the dining room table is already set.”
He wasn't kidding.
The long, narrow table had four empty plates sitting on the good placemats – and thank the Lord for that; she wasn't sure she trusted her father to handle things correctly – along with a serving dish full of vegetables, a plate of lean ham and two bowls filled with mashed potatoes and stuffing.
Harry did the cooking in this house, and for one very good reason. Despite what the laws of physics would have you believe, given enough time in front of an oven, Melissa would eventually find a way to burn ice. No…she had no talent for the culinary arts, but she did know how to make company feel welcome. Christmas wasn't a time to be stingy with the nice silverware.
Now all they had to do was wait for Claire to decide she was finished playing with her video games, and that would require quite a bit of prodding from their father. To his credit, Harry managed it in less than five minutes.
Claire wore a thick pink sweatshirt and kept her hair done up in twin braids that fell over her shoulders. Her round face was starting to mature now that she was less than six months away from her tenth birthday.
Claire hopped into a chair across from Melissa, then looked up to stare at her with those big brown eyes. “Are we ready to eat?” she asked. “I'm starving.”
“Almost,” Melissa replied. “We have to say Grace.”
“Oh…”
Their father stood at the head of the table with a hand resting on his chair, a fierce scowl on his face. “Claire,” he began in that cautionary tone. “This is important to your sister. Do as you're told.”
Claire bit her lip as she lowered her eyes to stare into her lap. “All right,” she said with a shrug. “But make it quick.”
That might have bothered Melissa if it had come from someone just a little older, but children really didn't understand what they were saying. It wasn't superstition that fueled her desire to reach out to God; it was a desire for a connection, a need to know that she was part of the larger universe.
She kept the prayer short and to the point, thanking the Lord for her loving family, her wonderful parents and her sister. She also made mention of Jena. Though things had started out awkward, she was glad to have a kind of…cool aunt that she could go to when she needed advice. Saying that out loud made the other woman blush.
Dinner was delicious, as always. She had to give her father this much credit: years of being a single parent had given him a real flair for making a hastily-prepared meal taste like a gourmet feast. They made smalltalk, though it was clear that Harry and Jena were avoiding the topic of her recent lapse in judgment.
The thought of it hung in the air like a ghost, taunting her with whispers that only she could hear. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Her father and Jena were both smiling, and it seemed as though they were having a good time. Nevertheless, she still felt awkward whenever they looked at her.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Melissa shut her eyes. “School's good,” she said, sliding her chair closer to the table. “I got a ninety-two on my last test in AP calculus. I'm considering writing the SAT. You know, just in case.”
“In case of what?” Jena inquired.
Harry lifted a glass of wine, pausing for a moment to watch them through the dark liquid. “The Americans have a test you have to take if you want to attend one of their colleges,” he explained. “Were you thinking of going down south, Melissa?”
“Not too deeply.”
“Good,” he said. “I wouldn't want you to go.”
Melissa threw her head back, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “Come on, Dad,” she said, eyebrows rising. “There are SlipGates now. I could visit you every weekend for less than the price of a tank of gas.”
He frowned into his wine, his brows drawn together. “I suppose,” he said, giving his head a shake. “I just like the thought of having you nearby. That way I can be there when…when things get complicated.”
Crossing her arms, Jena leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. “She's growing up, Harry,” she muttered. “Sooner or later, you're going to have to learn to let go. Please don't make me use the words 'circle of life.'”
A scowl twisted Harry's features, and he buried his face in his hand. “We've been over this, Jen,” he muttered into his own palm. “When it comes to decisions like this, I have to make them alone.”
“Except it's not your decision!”
The outburst was probably unwise, but Melissa couldn't stop herself. She sat with hands folded in her lap, refusing to look at him. “Where I go to school is my decision, not yours, and no amount of screw-ups on my part will change that.”
“I didn't say it-”
Melissa bared her teeth like a snarling dog. “Furthermore,” she added, “I don't need you to leap to my rescue every time something goes wrong!”
When she looked up, her father was watching her with his lips pressed into a thin line, sweat glistening on his brow. “You certainly needed me the other night,” he said. “Don't talk to me about moving away until you prove you can be responsible.”
“Smooth, Harry,” Jena muttered under her breath. “Look, take it from somebody who lived through the whole teenage rebellious phase-”
“I don't want your advice.”
“Yeah, but-”
Melissa slid her chair back from the table with a loud scraping sound. That brought an abrupt end to the conversation, and she was thankful for it. She would not be the cause of a fight between the two of them. “If you're just going to argue,” she began, “then I'm just going to go upstairs.”
Trepidation welled up inside her, but she did her best to force it down. She hated being the centre of attention, and damn Aaron for his endless nagging! Yes, it had been her decision, but it was one she never would have made without him.
Tramping up the stairs brought her a little cathartic relief, but she was more than half expecting her father to call her back to the table. Fortunately, he never did. She took refuge in her room.
Melissa stood by the door with her arms folded, doubled over as she heaved out a deep breath. “Somebody shoot me,” she muttered, pacing over to her bed. “That's what I get for assuming things would run smoothly.”
She spent a great deal of time lying on her back and counting the little bumps of stucco on the ceiling. Somehow, she always lost count after four. They just seemed to blend together when you weren't looking.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at her door.
“Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal not her father but Jena, standing in the hallway with hands clasped in front of herself, her head bowed almost reverently. “I convinced your dad that we should talk.”
Melissa sat up.
