Adam’s eyes narrowed, but I recognized the raw truth in Sal’s soul-searching.
“And that’s why you’re going to get Cara and bring her home. And the baby.”
“It is not that simple, Lila.”
“You promised!”
“No, I did not. You demanded. Please let me explain.”
“Explain quickly,” Adam growled.
For the first time Sal seemed irritated. “Explaining quickly is not necessarily explaining accurately. There is still so much that you do not know! As I told Lila before I left, your Cara is safe and was in no way harmed. Her child was conceived in a respectful, precise manner and is currently being nurtured and tended by Servants who understand—”
“The baby was b-b . . . ?” Adam’s voice faltered and Eileen patted his arm.
“The baby was born?” I asked softly. “They’re really okay?”
“Of course.” A shadow of hurt darkened Sal’s expression. “I told you that she needed us. And she chose to—”
“What did you name him?”
Sal showed no surprise at Eileen’s assumption. “Traveler. The adam’s wife named him. We thought it an unusual choice given her regional southeastern influences . . . ?”
I sighed and answered his unspoken question. “Cara’s brother. His name meant something similar.”
“You are quite proficient with names.”
“Sometimes.” Maybe you’ll find your way home, little Traveler.
My hand slid across the table to offer Adam what solace it could, but he didn’t take it. His palms were pressed flat to the table, the tendons and muscles in his arms a chiseled study in absolute stillness. No breath moved his chest. No pulse betrayed the carved lines of his neck. He was the statue of yesterday, but this stone man wept—and I was the one who cracked.
No thought, no pause—I leapt from my chair and smothered him against me in a fierce embrace, burying his wet face against my stomach, rounding myself over him to murmur something, I don’t even know what. And then I attacked Sal.
Stalking around the table, I startled him out of his chair, but his massive height and body didn’t intimidate me one teeny, tiny bit.
“Enough explaining!” When he didn’t say anything, I jabbed his chest, jamming my knuckle. Bastard. “Bring them back now!” This time I shoved him with both hands but he just looked at me worriedly. A chair crashed to the floor behind me, and Adam grabbed my arms, but I jerked free and shoved Sal again. “Can’t you see what this is doing to him?!”
“Mom!”
“Stay over there!”
“But—”
“Lila, get away from him!”
“Lila . . . ”
“Sal, I mean it! Whatever your bullshit reasons are, they’re not good enough!”
“Please calm yourself! You have to trust me! I—”
“Trust you?!” I screeched. “Why should I?!”
As soon as I screamed the words—as soon as their hateful ring clarioned around the room—I wanted to take them back. Just like with Adam. But I couldn’t. Because I meant them. Human interaction, sharing, and trust. I sucked at all three and the fact that Sal was an alien didn’t make it any better.
My fury evaporated, and I took a step back. Eileen was squinting at me, and Adam was seething at his own clenched hands, but Sal just looked at me. No hurt or anger in his eyes. No blame for all the pain he’d suffered just to keep us safe. He just saw me—the flawed, emotional human.
Discomfited, I waited for the reproach I deserved; wanted it, but it didn’t come. Somehow, he understood. Somehow, in spite of his own past—or because of it—he did care.
“Please bring them back,” I whispered, “Please.” Now that my anger was gone, I begged him. For Adam, and—selfishly, miserably—I begged him for myself. Cara had to come back.
“The baby needs—”
“The baby needs parents. Real ones, Sal. Adam needs his wife and son, and you have to bring them back!” His face blurred behind unwelcome tears, but I felt his hands on my shoulders and his warm, heavy sigh ruffle my hair.
“Adam . . . ?” Sal’s tone was neutral, but his fingers tightened.
“No!” Eileen wriggled her way between Sal and me and slammed her fists on his chest to push us apart. “No! Adam belongs with us! You’re ruining everything!”
“Leeni, no!” Appalled, I pulled her away.
“Eileen . . . ” Adam’s voice was desolate and torn as he reached for her, too, but she just glared at him.
“Tell her!”
“Eileen! That’s enough.”
“Tell him!” She was furious with all three of us now, and I was in shock, my tears seared dry by embarrassment and shame.
“Young one,” Sal’s big hand settled on her shoulder, and he only smiled when she bared her teeth at him. “Why don’t you tell us?”
“No!” Her ferocious stubbornness was painful to see; and when her chin quivered, I pulled her against me, curving my body around her and pressing my cheek against the top of her head.
“Leeni, honey . . . ” I whispered in her hair. “This has been a lot for you. For all of us. It’s going to be alright soon, I promise. I’m sorry I got so upset. This is all my fault, but it’s going to be alright, sweetheart. It’s really going to be alright.” I crooned promises that I couldn’t keep until she melted against me, burrowing her face into my hair like when she was a baby.
Her mouth found my ear and she whispered, “But he’s yours. And you’re his. I can see it.” She pulled back and met my stunned gaze solemnly, sorrowfully, before casting a nervous glance at Sal.
She can see . . . ? Of course she could see. I didn’t know what she saw, but the squinting—and she’d always been so perceptive—how could I have missed this? When did it start? Why hadn’t she told me?
“It is the adam’s decision, young one.”
Aliens. Monitoring. Why had he come back now? Did he know she had a gift? What did this mean? What did he think it meant?
“Mom?” Eileen peeked around
