“Modulators are designed to—”
“And did you really know Tesla? He was human, right?”
My kid. I was still grinning as I stepped in the shower. Precocious and entertaining and blindingly smart. Nothing like me, that was for sure.
Is that why you don’t want to know? Because you don’t want to share? Youlikebeing her only parent.
Hot water sluiced over my body, but it was my epiphany that scalded. I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want to deal with every-other-weekend and Christmas visits. I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion on how to raise her.What kind of mother was I? Who was I to deny my daughter even the possibility of a father?
My ego stinging and sore, I washed quickly. The sooner I left for Adam’s, the sooner I could get back and quiz Sal. He knew. He knew the guy’s entire genetic sequence, for God’s sake, so finding his address wouldn’t be difficult.
He might be married now, which would be awkward, but I could approach him tactfully. Tell him I’d had amnesia or something. At least give him the option of getting to know his daughter. If he was alive. He might not be . . . but even if he wasn’t, he’d probably have living relatives. Eileen might have cousins and grandparents and an entire family waiting somewhere.
The bandages on my hands were mushy, and I flicked them off. It might turn out like a tawdry made-for-TV drama, but it might not. And I’d be the one taking the risk. She didn’t need to know until I was sure. I turned the water off and yanked the shower curtain back with a sense of purpose.
Once dressed in clean jeans and a white t-shirt, I towel-dried my hair and dragged a comb through it. The smell of coffee and onions pulled me out to the kitchen, and I braided my hair over one shoulder as I rejoined Eileen and Sal.
“I smell fresh coffee . . . ”
Sal handed me a glass of water. “Drink this first. You are still dehydrated.”
Eileen looked up from chopping potatoes. “Why are you dehydrated?”
“I had a little upset stomach during the night. Remember how woozy I was fixing the hot chocolate?” I pointed at the pile of sliced onions on the cutting board. “Those aren’t making your eyes burn?”
“He taught me how to activate them.”
“What?! Are you okay? It didn’t hurt, did it?” I glared at Sal. You couldn’t wait?
“Lila, she is fine.” He grinned at her, “Merely annoyed.”
“Yeah. I’m fine . . . ”
“But . . . ?”
“They’re cool,” she sulked.
“But she cannot electrocute me.” He patted her shoulder. “Though not for lack of effort.”
“Eileen!”
“What? I wasn’t rude.”
“She is helping prepare the vegetables,” he agreed.
I chugged the glass of water like it was cheap beer and headed for the coffee. Who knew that a twenty-thousand-year-old alien and a thirteen-year-old girl could be so alike? God help me.
Before I left, it finally occurred to me that Adam and Cara would have questions they’d expect me to be able to answer, but when I asked Sal what I should say, his response was surprisingly blunt.
“Cara was fully informed. Whether she chooses to speak is her decision to make. And you must replace your bandages. You would not want the cuts to reopen while you are holding the child.”
Now rattling along in my Bronco, I was all too conscious of the bandages between my skin and the steering wheel. Keeping the secret, I vaguely understood; although, admittedly, I hadn’t asked enough questions last night. A mistake I’d correct as soon as Eileen was asleep. But his emphasis on holding the baby . . . Was that just an excuse to sell our cover story to listening aliens? Or a hint to be wary around Traveler?
I was going to have to start carrying a notepad strapped to my wrist. Better yet, I needed to buy lots of them and scatter them around the house. With matches. Eileen would need to know why, but she’d love the whole cloak and dagger routine, and would probably come up with a much better method. Preferably, one that didn’t involve fire.
Then again, the more she knew, the harder it would be to keep things from her. And once the aliens figured out what the hell they wanted from me, would I be able to tell her about it? Or would I need to protect her so she wouldn’t worry? And what if she had a bad day at school and mouthed off about technology no one believed existed?
And did I even want her to go back to school? My grip tightened on the wheel and the lumpy scars reminded me just how serious this was. How could I drop her off every morning and trust that she’d be safe? Would Sal know ahead of time if there was a problem? What if I couldn’t meet their expectations? What if they thought I wasn’t trying hard enough?
I was teetering on the edge of a full-on panic attack by the time my Bronco bounced over the first speed bump in Adam’s neighborhood. The quiet road wound carefully around gnarled live oaks, but even lurching along in first gear brought me to his house too quickly. I couldn’t do this. Not right now.
His big black Ford was snugged to the right of the driveway, leaving me plenty of room to pull alongside—a nice gesture full of the thoughtfulness I’d come to expect from him. My heart thumped oddly and my left hand felt a little numb on the wheel. When the Bronc settled into silence, I pulled the key from the ignition slowly, as if removing a knife from my own body.
You can do this, Lila. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in . . .
Something scrabbled at my window and I jumped.
“Betty!” I opened the heavy door and let her plop her paws on my lap. “Hey, girl. How did you know I needed a hug?” She woofed softly in my ear, and I impulsively wrapped her legs around my neck so
