I slid sideways, but he merely stirred his coffee with the casual deliberation I hadn’t been able to achieve, leaving me free to pour myself a cup, too. Steam curled from the ebony waterfall with a careless beauty that made me long for a hot shower. A scalding haven where I could be miserable and no one would see me. We didn’t have to visit today . . .
“Are you nervous about meeting the child?”
Damn it. Grabbing a kitchen towel, I swabbed the brown tiles, thankful yet again that my father hadn’t used white grout.
“Why would she be nervous? It’s just a baby.” I didn’t have to turn around to know that Eileen was glowering at Sal over her bowl. “It’s not as if she doesn’t have experience with alien kids.”
I did look, then, and caught a glimpse of the funny little twist her lips always made when she was struggling not to cry.
“Good point, Leeni . . . ” I couldn’t keep a straight face when hers looked so crushed, so I rushed my joke, “Survived first grade with Brittany Fancy-Pants, and she was definitely from another planet.”
Her smile was weak, but it would have to do. For now. One day wasn’t nearly long enough to reconcile a lifetime of Hollywood sci-fi flicks with Sal’s revelations. And she didn’t even know all of it. Of course, neither did I.
Coward.
“Mom.”
“Huh?”
“You just snorted!”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
“Actually, you did.” Sal’s perfect lips were stretched into a full grin, his even teeth flashing unnaturally white in the light streaming through the window. Maybe the modulators in his saliva prevented tooth decay. Would Eileen even need braces?
“Mom!”
“What?”
“You’re staring at him.”
I grabbed the sopping towel and headed for the laundry, ignoring Sal’s small laugh. Yeah, that’s right. Laugh it up. You’re not all that.
“Eileen, surely you know why your mother looks at me so closely.”
I whirled around, but was surprised to see him settling beside her at the table. Or rather, I was surprised to see that she’d remained seated.
“Do you not have more questions for me today? You have a most inquisitive mind. One of the brightest I have ever encountered.”
“That proves it. I am human.” Her defiance faded too quickly, and she muttered, “Mostly.”
“You are completely human,” he soothed. “Our interference was so many millennia ago that what you are is human. You are luckier than many, though. Do you realize that? Your DNA is nearly flawless, and the modulators will prevent the activation of undesirable sequences.”
“Great, so I’ll be a blonde Amazon thanks to you. That’s so racist.”
“Child,” his tone was gently reproving, “Your assumptions are incorrect. Optimum health for our species, just like yours, includes a spectrum of physical representations—although we were a taller species than your ancestors.”
Tossing the towel in the sink, I joined them at the table. “I think we’ve been assuming you’re all—”
“Aryan bodybuilders.”
“Not at all! Our records indicate that on our home planet, coloring and physical appeal were reflective of whims—much like your culture’s fascination with clothing trends. But on our team, the Givers made symbolic choices for their progeny based on assigned duties. Most of us do have similar skeletal and—”
“They decided your jobs before you were even born? That is so screwed up!” She was right. And by the way Sal was studying his hands, he thought so as well.
“Your . . . the modulators keep genetic disorders from developing?”
“Yes. She will never develop anemia, breast cancer, or alcoholism—which were the leading concerns in her profile.”
“Jesus. You know more about my family than I do.” I faked a laugh, but it was disconcerting. My mother had chronic anemia, but I didn’t know there was a history of cancer or addiction.
Oh.
I turned to Eileen. “Well. You, my angel, were perfect before the modu-whatsits.” Standing up, I kissed the top of her head with a loud smack, “In fact, you were perfect from the first moment you popped into my life.”
“Mommmmmm.”
“Aww, so sorry, dear. Did Mummy embarrass you?”
At least my distraction had worked. Mendel’s contribution to science had been a sixth-grade project. I avoided Sal’s eyes as I fetched our coffee—which was only lukewarm now. And we had forgotten his potatoes, piled next to the skillet and waiting to be cut.
The cast-iron skillet. Of course. That’s why my father always cooked with it.
“Would you like me to prepare a different meal for you?”
“Hmm? No. Thank you,” I added a split-second late. “But . . . the coffee’s cold. Would you mind fixing some more? Eileen would love to see your trick,” I coaxed.
“Trick?” She tried to sound blasé, but I knew better.
“It’s a good one. And while y’all are doing science, I’ll take a fast shower and then we’ll go see the baby, okay?”
“I don’t want to.”
“I am certain my presence is not desired.”
Discomfited, I wasn’t sure how to respond. Understandably, Eileen was hurting—and probably jealous of the baby—so forcing her to go would be a bad idea. And Sal was right. He was definitely unwanted—until they were ready to interrogate him. But was I ready to leave my daughter alone with him?
“Mom.”
“Lila . . . ”
“Sal, I’m—”
“Mom.”
“Shh, child. We must not beleaguer her.”
Eileen bristled and drew a deep breath, but I’d made up my mind.
“You can stay, but on one condition.” In truth, I’d made up my mind the moment I’d read Sal’s words last night. “Sal’s going to be a part of our lives, at least for a while, and you need to be polite. Give him a chance.”
“I need—”
“And you, Mister . . . ”
“Only if she asks—or there is an emergency.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why don’t you ask him, honey? He’ll tell you . . . ” I caught his eye, “ . . . the interesting stuff.”
A blink confirmed he understood, and Eileen was already eyeing him like he was the only book in the last library on Earth.
“Is this about what you did to Adam? Why would I ask you to do that? And how can you
