Roswell Fanatics

...but since I'm home unexpectedly I thought I'd post the next part. Now I guess I'll run and hide.

Chapter 10

Claudia

By late morning every member of our family and every family friend knows that I am pregnant, with the exception of my dad and grandmother. My dad will be enlightened later this afternoon when he arrives, but Gram will be kept in the dark a little longer. Since my pregnancy is bound to progress quickly Mom wants to wait until I’m closer to delivering before telling her the truth.

Presently, we’ve all gathered in the dining room, me, Mom, Aunt Maria and Zan’s Aunt Isabel, to finalize the last few details for tonight’s dinner. All three women seem to feel free to speak their minds about my current situation and, since Gram and Diane Evans are currently with the baby, they are holding nothing back. The rest of the family and guests are packed together in the living room to watch football. Zan is with them.

I haven’t had a single moment alone with him since this morning when he came back to bed. Perhaps that’s annoying me more than being forced to remain cooped up in a hot kitchen all day. Being apart from him is annoying me more than the fact my mom and her friends seem determined to discuss me like I’m not even in the room. I wonder if Zan is getting similar treatment.

“So does David know what’s going on yet?” Aunt Maria asks as she and Mom fit the dining room table with an ornately decorated tablecloth.

“Not yet,” Mom answers, “And I’m really not looking forward to his reaction.”

She’s not looking forward to his reaction? She’s not? And I guess I’m just sitting on top of the world right now, huh! So ironic that’s she’s the one dreading his reaction but I’m the one who has to tell him.

“And you’re absolutely sure there’s a baby?” Isabel Evans asks carefully, as if she’s weighing all the options, “You’re not all just reacting out of turn, are you?” She pauses in her task of setting up the candlestick holders to favor my mom with a sympathetic glance. My first reaction is to scream out “yes, there’s a baby!” just because she’s overlooking me when she presents her question to my mother instead of me. But a quelling glance from my mother keeps me quiet.

“We sent Zan to the store this morning for a pregnancy test,” Mom tells her, “And we formed a connection. There is most definitely a baby.”

“So how are you and Max proposing to handle this?” Isabel wants to know.

“They want to have the baby,” Mom replies, “So…I guess we’re going to find some way to work around that. We’ll have to see how David takes the news to see if Claudia will be able to finish out her school semester since she’s staying with him. If she does finish it out and David goes ballistic we’re going to have to find alternate living arrangements. For Zan it’s already been decided. He’s going to finish out the fall semester but then defer in the spring. We’re trying to take this all one step at a time.”

It’s so nice that they’ve got it all figured out. No need to bother with my and Zan’s pesky feelings, especially when it’s so much easier to just work around them. What do we matter anyway? We’re just the ones having the kid! I’m surprised the gnashing of my teeth isn’t audible by now. But I’m not given the chance to work myself up further because the doorbell suddenly rings. Everyone in the dining room freezes and I imagine identical reactions are happening all over the house.

A few seconds later Gram materializes in the threshold of the dining room. “David’s here,” she announces softly. Slowly, deliberately four pairs of eyes swivel around to survey my ashen features. “He’s waiting for you in the foyer, Claudia.”

I feel almost as if I’m marching off to face a firing squad. I rise on shaky legs but I’m determined to let none of them see my fear, my reluctance. Head held high, I march from the dining room with the dignity of a queen only to crumple a few seconds later when I’m alone in the hall. I collapse back against the wall, pressing one hand to my thundering heart while I try to regain control of my rapid breathing. A moment later I feel a warm palm sliding over my cheek. Without even glancing up, I whisper his name.

“Do you want me to be there with you?”

I look at Zan then, the corner of my mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Yes, I definitely want you to be there with me,” I tell him, “But we both know it’s best that you keep your distance.”

“I’ve wanted to be here for you,” he says, “but Dad said I should keep away while Liz got over the shock.” He pauses for a beat. “Is she over it yet?” I shake my head tersely. “So we can expect this tension for a while then, huh?”

“Probably,” I whisper glumly.

He brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, his large hand cradling my jaw. “Remember last night,” he implores, “When you’re with him…remember it. We’re a part of each other, Claudia. No one can change that.” I’m not sure how long we stand there, locked in each other’s eyes, connected on a plain beyond the physical, beyond the tangible. I can feel him beating inside me right now.

We might have stood there until the end of eternity had my mother not come and rested her hand against my shoulder. “Claude, your dad’s waiting,” she whispers to me gently, “Zan, you should make yourself scarce.” He nods his acquiesce with great reluctance but after depositing a brief kiss to my lips he does as she asks. “You love him a lot, don’t you?” she remarks thoughtfully when he’s gone.

“And he loves me,” I finish.

She gives my shoulders a firm squeeze of encouragement. “I can stay with you for this.”

“Don’t,” I tell her, all my irritation with her suddenly draining in that second, “I need to do this by myself.”

I find Dad in the foyer a short time later making some lame ass attempt at conversation with Jules’ dad. He hasn’t even removed his coat. Max and Michael hover near, just waiting to pounce and Dad is equally on the defensive. It’s like being in a room full of alpha males. I can practically smell the antagonism.

The moment Dad sees me he sidles around Mr. Valenti without another word and comes forward to hug me. “Come on. We should get a move on,” he says right after, already leading me towards the front door.

“Wait!” I protest, hanging back, “We’re not going to stay here?” Somehow I felt a great deal braver about the prospect of facing him down when I knew I would have a house full of backup. Now my courage is fading fast.

“Claudia,” he says, sounding somewhat annoyed and definitely impatient with my lagging, “I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet. I thought we should have an opportunity to talk…alone,” he finishes with quiet emphasis.

After a darting look in my stepfather’s direction and noting the feral expression on his face I nod jerkily in consent. I know that Max won’t hesitate to attack if he feels Dad is a threat to me. I won’t to avoid the whole scene. “Just…Just let me get my jacket,” I stammer nervously. When I make my way over to the coat rack to grab it, however, I glimpse Zan standing off in the shadows behind it.

“Are you leaving?” he whispers glumly.

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

“I don’t know if you should go off with him alone.”

“Zan, he’s my dad,” I soothe with a somber smile, “He’s not going to hurt me.”

“Claude,” Dad calls impatiently, “We need to move!”

“I gotta go,” I tell him, but when I turn away to leave I’m stunned into speechlessness when Zan follows. Dad’s lips narrow into a thin, white line the moment he sees Zan. They stare each other down in mute challenge. My first instinct is to duck my head and beat a hasty retreat just to avoid confrontation. But then at the last moment I decide differently. I think about what Zan told me, about how if I want our relationship to be respected that I have to stop hiding it first.

And so I turn back abruptly, grab Zan by the neck of his t-shirt and kiss him. A collective gasp goes up in the room but I hardly register the sound. I’m too in tune with Zan’s reaction. At first, he’s understandably taken aback, but then he softens against me and cradles my face in his hands so that he can return my kiss fully.

The kiss doesn’t last long and I’m pulling away a few seconds later, mostly because I can hear my dad’s outraged huffs behind me. But as I start to step away Zan whirls me back into his arms for another kiss, this time hard and demanding…undeniably possessive, almost like he means to brand me. When we pull apart I’m breathless.

“I love you,” he tells me and loud enough for everyone present to hear.

“I love you, too,” I reply with equal candor and then I lower my voice so only he can hear me, “We’ll work all this out…just like you said, remember?” I’m prevented from saying anything more because Dad’s hand is suddenly clamping down on my forearm and he forcibly forcefully drags me from the house.

“You mind telling me what that was all about,” he hisses as he directs me towards the passenger door of his Lexus suv.

I meekly climb into the car and buckle my seatbelt. “What was what about?” I murmur calmly as he hurls himself into the driver’s seat and yanks the car into reverse. I belatedly realize that he never even cut the ignition, but left the car idling in the driveway. I’m disappointed to realize he wasn’t even going to attempt to make the most of Mom’s holiday invitation.

“That kiss!” he explodes, “You’re kissing him now? I suppose that means you fell for whatever line he fed you and you’re back together then?”

“We actually never broke up,” I confess carefully.

We jackknife off onto the main road. “Excuse me? What?”

“Zan and I got back together after I was released from the hospital, Dad,” I explain timidly, “We’ve been together ever since.”

“Released from the hospital?” he echoes, bewildered, “That was more than a year ago.” He arrives at the conclusion with stunning swiftness. “Christ, Claudia! You’ve been lying to me for over a year about this?”

“I didn’t want to say anything because I knew you’d freak out!” I cry, “Just like you’re freaking out right now!”

“My God, what are you thinking?” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white, “What the hell is the matter with you? After what that boy did to you the first time around… God, I’d thought you’d have more sense!”

“Zan never did anything but love me, Dad!”

He chokes out a scathing laugh. “Listen to yourself,” he snorts, “Those people have you completely brainwashed…just like your goddamned mother.”

“I’m not brainwashed, Dad,” I whisper, “I’m in love. Zan and I are connected. You might see that if you could stop being so angry all the time.”

Dad goes into another round of hysterical laughter. “Connected?” he scoffs, “Claudia, the boy’s an alien. His father is an alien…as in NOT human! Does that not compute for you? These people are not normal!”

“I don’t care,” I mumble.

“Well, I do!” he explodes softly, “I care that your mother’s brief involvement with those people turned her life completely upside down and scarred her so badly that she ran away from her family and the only home she’d ever known. I don’t want to see that same thing happen to you. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder in fear of discovery.”

“No one will discover anything if you keep quiet, Dad.”

He snorts again. “Now you sound exactly like your mother.”

“It’s true,” I insist, “You’re the only one who can cause trouble.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he replies, but this time I don’t even grace him with a response. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs in his most cajoling tone, “There are hundreds of boys out there just waiting for the opportunity to fall in love with you. Normal boys. Human boys who don’t happen to be your stepbrother as well.”

I flick him with a narrowed glance, catching the thinly veiled disgust in his tone. “What bothers you more?” I wonder aloud, “The fact that Zan isn’t human or the fact that he’s my stepbrother?”

“You want my honest response? I actually think both scenarios are pretty sick.” I can’t help it. Some of my bravado fades and I flinch in reaction to his reply. He makes me feel ashamed and dirty about the most beautiful relationship I have ever had. But his next words confirm that he’s not totally ignorant to the hurt he’s caused me because he attempts to smooth things over. “Why are we snapping at each other about this anyway?” he soothes rationally, “You’ve maybe seen the boy…what…three or four times this year. How long do you really expect for this long distance relationship to last, Claude?”

Now the time has come to drop my second bombshell. “It’s not long distance.”

“What do you mean it’s not long distance?”

“Zan and I go to school together, Dad,” I whisper with a deliberate sideways glance in his direction, “He lives in Sacramento.”

I’m thankful that I had the forethought to buckle my seatbelt because a moment later he’s swerving out of traffic and pulling into the parking lot of a nearby grocery store. I hold my breath in fearful anticipation as he cuts the engine and swivels around to face me. “So what else have you been lying to me about?” he demands frankly, “Next you’ll be telling me that you’ve been sleeping with him, too.” I duck my head in guilty shame, cheeks flaming. “Oh fuck…Claudia,” he hisses, “This is all your mother’s doing.”

“No…don’t blame her,” I protest faintly.

“She’s made you think this life is all roses and fairytales when it’s not,” he says tightly, “Claudia, these people are dangerous…they’re not like us, okay. How am I supposed to protect you if you insist on lying to me?”

“You don’t have to protect me from Zan,” I retort firmly.

“Especially from that punk.” He sighs and drags his hand across his chin. “At least tell me you’ve been protected, though I can’t imagine if it makes much difference, but at least we won’t have to worry about you conceiving some half alien creature with him.” I don’t respond, but suddenly fall into avid absorption with my hands. “Claudia?” Dad prods fearfully, “Claudia, please dear God…please don’t tell me that alien slime knocked you up.”

“Fine. I won’t tell you,” I mumble in a shaky whisper. His hatred for Zan and his kind is throbbing in his words. It’s almost scary.

“But you are,” he concludes in defeat, “You’re fucking pregnant, aren’t you?” I nod and he promptly goes crazy, beating his fists against the steering wheel and dashboard. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he cries and I wince with each curse, “Does your mother know about this?” Another string of curses follows my second nod. “Of course she does,” Dad mutters derisively, “She’s probably doing a little dance of joy because you decided to follow so closely in her footsteps.”

“Mom’s not happy about this at all, okay, Dad,” I reply defensively, “She’s angry and disappointed, too.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” he sneers and then, without warning, regains control of his rampant temper. “Okay, we only have one option then. You have to get rid of it.”

“What?” I choke out in disbelief.

“You have to abort it, Claudia,” he tells me firmly, “There’s no other choice. I can take care of the details for you.”

“Dad, what are you saying?” I cry, “This is my baby, my body and I don’t want an abortion. Zan and I want this baby!”

“You are clearly not being rational,” he returns calmly.

“No, I’m not being rational!” I agree hysterically, “You’re asking me to kill my baby! Your own grandchild!”

“That thing is not my grandchild,” he intones, pointing towards my belly, “I don’t want anything to do with it and I don’t want you to have anything to do with it either.”

“God, Dad,” I sob, “I can’t believe you’re being this way.”

“It’s not a baby,” he says as if that should completely explain and excuse his reaction, “It’s an it…a…a thing! You can’t possibly go through with this pregnancy, Claudia. For all it’s human exterior you know it will be anything but.”

The fury in me boils over then, not just for his highhanded reaction but his apparent disgust for his own grandchild as well. “I am having this baby, Dad,” I enunciate slowly, tears running freely now, “And if you can’t deal with that then--,”

I never finish the sentence. A bright streak of pain zings through my entire body and I double over with it, groaning. I clench my fists against the force of it, noting as I do that a green energy crackles over them. But I can’t puzzle it out, not when my body feels like it’s being ripped asunder, like it’s on fire from the inside out. I’m dimly aware of my father panicking, of the car alarm going haywire, the lights blinking on and off inside the interior and the radio blaring to life. There’s another shaft of pain that rips through my body then, searing my nerve endings and leaving my entire world dark.

TBC

...and I can't leave you guys twisting...here's the next part. And what's all this about angst? This light for me, lol.


Chapter 11

Liz

“Watching the window isn’t going to bring them back any sooner, you know.” I whip around to find Isabel hovering behind me with a steaming cup of what I assume is coffee in hand. I start to wave her away, thinking I don’t need to be more wired than I already am when she says, “It’s herbal tea.” She presses the mug into my stiff fingers. I have no choice but to accept it or let it crash to the floor. Isabel fixes me with a stern look. “You need to relax, Liz.”

“I know you’re right,” I sigh, tentatively moving away from the window and inching for the kitchen table. “Did Max send you in here to check on me?” I ask her wryly once I’ve sat down.

She pulls up a chair right alongside me. “He didn’t know if you should be alone,” she replies, “But then he didn’t know if you’d welcome his company either.”

I’m instantly stabbed over with guilty remorse for the distance I’ve let fester between Max and me these last few months. My husband isn’t even confident enough to approach me when I’m in emotional crisis. The need to get away and rediscover one another again is becoming more and more pressing, but the possibility grows slimmer and slimmer with Zan and Claudia’s current situation. I heave another sigh, this one full of weary dejection. I can remember when I was as certain about Max’s love for me as Claudia is about Zan’s love for her and vice versa. I wonder now where that certainty has gone to.

I had thought after the calm and productive conversation we shared about the kids the other afternoon Max would have felt easy about approaching me. I’m saddened to realize that he’s just as insecure as ever when it comes to my feelings. “My God, Isabel, how did we get here?” I groan.

“Stupid choices,” she answers dryly, “We made a lot of stupid choices. I’m not surprised that we’re still paying for our mistakes even years down the road.”

“I know what you mean,” I tell her, taking an obligatory sip of my tea, “And what mistakes are you paying for, Isabel?” My question is meant to be a joke, something to lighten the somber mood between us but I’m a little shocked when Isabel responds seriously.

“I…I think I might have something to do with the reason David is reacting so strongly,” she confesses reluctantly.

“Oh, Isabel. Is this about the wedding?” I ask her, thinking she’s wrongly projecting guilt onto herself due to her apparent rejection of David following the reception. “I assure you that you didn’t do much more than bruise David’s ego when you turned him down. This…what’s going on now with him…goes much deeper.”

“No,” Isabel refutes with a shake of her head, “You don’t understand, Liz. You see…I knew David from before…what I mean is…I met him before…before the wedding.”

“You met him?” I parrot deliberately.

“We were at an office party thrown by a client of mine about two Christmases ago,” she explains, “The liquor was flowing pretty freely that night and I decided to indulge.” She closes her eyes in remembered mortification. “I know it wasn’t the wisest choice I could have made but I was lonely and depressed and missing Alex so much… David was there, too, and, unfortunately, just as lonely and drunk as I was.

“I had met him before through mutual friends and such,” she goes on, “We had even had a lunch date with those mutual friends a time or two, but strictly platonic until…until that night.” She lowers her eyes to her lap but not before I can see the shame lurking in their deep brown depths. “We slept together, Liz,” she whispers in confession, “That’s how I know him…because we slept together once.”

“Oh…okay,” I breathe because I don’t really know how else to react. One of my oldest friends has just informed me that she slept with my ex-husband. Should I congratulate her? Do a little jig? Casually discuss David’s prowess as a lover? I don’t know how the hell to react so I just sit there staring at her like a half-wit.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” she implores in anguish.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask blankly.

“Are you…Are you angry with me?” she asks in a trembling whisper.

“You…you said this was two Christmases ago, right?” I say, willing my brain to resume it’s normal function, “We…uh…we were divorced by then I think.” In the distance I’m vaguely aware of the front door slamming but I hardly acknowledge the sound because I’m still shell shocked.

“Yes. Yes, you were,” Isabel rushes out eagerly, “God, I wouldn’t be able to face you otherwise, Liz.”

“Okay, then. It’s not a problem,” I reply faintly, “This happened three years ago, Isabel, there’s no need to torture yourself about it now. It doesn’t matter!”

“Liz, you’re not getting it,” she says, “The reason David and I were fighting at the reception wasn’t because I rebuffed him. He…he thought that I had deliberately mislead him about that night…that maybe I knew who he was from the beginning.” I pin her with a wide-eyed look of astonishment, wordlessly asking if that was a possibility. “I didn’t. I swear to you,” she insists stridently, “I told David the exact same thing. Not that he believed me.

“He started going on and on about the potential alien diseases I could have given him and so forth. Liz, he was furious. He accused me of making a fool out of him.” She grabs hold of my hand and presses it between her own. “His animosity goes much deeper than just your relationship with Max, okay. He hates us all. He thinks we’re trying to destroy him, to take everything he holds dear… That’s why he’s holding onto Claudia so hard.”

So I’m finally soaking it all in, why David’s attitude has steadily degenerated from fair to poor in this last year. No wonder he always seems so paranoid and out of sorts. Of course, it must seem to him like we’re all conspiring against him. I’d laugh myself silly over the ridiculous notion if it weren’t for all the pain his misconceptions have caused us this past year.

I pull my hand free of Isabel’s grasp and run my shaky fingers through my disheveled hair. “Okay…well, um…thank you for telling me and--,”

“Liz! You need to come quick!” Michael orders, abruptly materializing in the kitchen doorway, “It’s Claudia!”

Isabel and I scramble up from our chairs and make a mad dash for the living room. When we get there Michael and Kyle are laying her unconscious body down against the sofa while Max keeps a frantic David at bay. Claudia is contorting violently, her body run completely over with jagged green volts of energy. I vaguely register my mother’s anxious keening as Diane and Maria hold her back, shielding her from the drama unfolding on the couch.

“What happened?” I bark at David. He can’t form an intelligible answer, but only babbles feebly in response.

Ignoring him, I start to rush forward to be at my daughter’s side but Zan is already there gathering her in his arms and opening the connection between them. I shoulder through the wall Michael, Kyle and Philip have created and stoop down alongside him, my heart racing like a jackhammer. I battle every instinct within me to pelt Zan with questions because I want to do nothing to break his concentration right now.

Now that I’m closer I realize that Claudia isn’t unconscious at all. Her gray eyes are fixated and wide as she mutters over and over, “Zan, come find me. Zan, come find me.” Just when I think I’m going to start screaming and never stop Claudia’s eyes clear, the seizures stop and the green energy fades as if it had never been. She blinks up at Zan. “Zan,” she whispers weakly. She fingers his chin lovingly. “I knew you’d come,” she murmurs with a slight smile and then that smile collapses completely as her brow creases with a worried frown, “Is the baby…”

She doesn’t even complete the question. She doesn’t need to because Zan is already coasting a gentle hand down the slope of her abdomen. His hand glows for a scarce second and then he looks up at Claudia again, his blue eyes dark with relief. “She’s fine, babe,” he whispers, “She’s doing just fine.” Nearly everyone within our perimeter releases a simultaneous sigh. But I don’t utter a sound. I’m looking at Claudia and Zan. They’re almost painful to watch.

“What happened?” I ask again in a thick whisper.

“I don’t know,” Claudia says as Zan helps her upright so that she is propped back against the sofa cushions, “One minute I was talking to Dad and the next…it felt like my entire body had exploded.”

“She was shooting out all these electrical sparks,” David tosses out frenetically, “She even shorted out my car radio, Liz! I…I didn’t know where to take her so I brought her back here. What the hell is going on?”

“Suddenly, I couldn’t see or hear or feel anything,” Claudia goes on, “All my senses just went on the blink at the same time. It was like being inside a small, dark box. I wasn’t really aware of anything until Zan connected.”

Michael, Max and Kyle exchange a knowing glance. I hazard a pleading look around Max towards Maria, silently beseeching her to get my mother out of there. She’s already asking a dozen questions all at once and refusing to be moved. But somehow Diane and Maria manage to change her mind and a few seconds later they are shuffling her out of the room with the suggestion that she can keep the baby company. When they’re gone Michael demands, “Is she manifesting powers already?” Seven pairs of eyes swivel to Claudia’s face, “Is that what this is?”

“What…uh…no,” she denies weakly, “I don’t have any powers.”

“Have you ever experimented?” Max prods gently.

“No, I don’t have powers,” she insists.

“Powers?” David cries, “What powers?”

“But there was that one time,” Zan interjects quietly, “You remember, Cee…”

She shoots him a look. “We agreed that was just a coincidence, Zan.”

“What happened?” I demand anxiously.

“We…we had a fight,” Zan recounts in a stammer as he ignores Claudia’s censorious glower, “And Claudia was pretty much pissed off at me. I think we might have been yelling or something, but suddenly…every light bulb in her bedroom exploded.” He fixes Claudia with a penetrating stare. “I know I didn’t do it.”

“Neither did I,” Claudia enunciates through her teeth.

“What were you fighting about?” Kyle wants to know.

“It was last year around mid-terms,” Zan explains dismissively, “Claudia thought I was blowing her off when I really had to study and we got into a big argument about it. We made up later but not before she’d shattered every light bulb in the room.”

“I didn’t do it,” Claudia denies again.

“How can you be sure when you’ve never tested them out?” Michael questions.

“Wait!” David explodes, “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on? What’s all this talk about powers?”

“Do you really think this is possible, Max?” asks Philip. He doesn’t even pause to acknowledge David’s outburst.

“It’s likely,” Max considers, “I changed Liz when I healed her so it stands to reason that Zan changed Claudia when he healed her, too.”

“Or awakened what was already there,” I counter quietly.

“What do you mean awakened what was already there?” David demands in a deliberate whisper, “Will someone give me some fucking answers, please!”

His question is summarily ignored as attention refocuses once more on Claudia. “Why don’t you try, sweetheart,” I urge her tenderly.

“What should I do?” she asks in an anxious whisper.

“Try and color your hair,” Zan suggests on a whim, “Just concentrate and do it.”

After consenting with a shaky “okay” Claudia runs her fingers through her hair and concentrates hard just as Zan instructed her. For the first few seconds absolutely nothing happens but then finally we see them, faint blond streaks that grow wider and wider with each pass she makes through her hair. Very soon the glossy brown strands of her hair have lightened to a shimmery honey color. David utters a hissing curse.

“What have you people done to my daughter!” he demands irately.

His outburst causes Claudia to snap her eyes open in surprise. “It worked?” she burst out incredulously. She flips up a tendril of her hair in amazement. “Oh my God, it worked,” she utters, “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Yes, sweetheart, you did,” I confirm gently and then watch as her wondrous expression slowly crumples when she receives the full impact of her father’s disgusted glare. “It’s not her fault, David,” I snap irately, “These powers can be a blessing, you know.” I don’t think I’ve ever recognized that fact for myself until this moment when I say the words aloud.

“You people have made her into a freak,” he declares succinctly, “This is absolutely insane!” I want to slap him for that response and that’s before I see Claudia’s devastated expression. Even the usually mild-tempered Zan looks as if he wants to clobber him.

“D…Dad?” Claudia stutters carefully, “I’m still the same person. I’m still me.”

“No,” he denies with a terse shake of his head, “I don’t know who you are…what you are but you’re not my daughter.” He backs away, shouldering past Max and Philip. “I…I have to leave here.”

“David, don’t do this,” I warn him, literally stunned into immobility by his reaction.

“I didn’t do this, Elizabeth,” he whispers scathingly, “You did. You did it all.”

When he stalks from the room Claudia tries to push herself up after him, shrugging off my attempts to keep her still. “I have to go to him,” she cries, pitching herself off the sofa and after him, “Dad, wait!” She isn’t long gone from the room before Zan is up and on her heels. I stare after them sorrowfully, hating David for his callous reaction but understanding the reason for it as well. I want to go after her now, to protect her but Max warns me to give her space with an imperceptible shake of his head.

“God, this is a mess,” I groan, easing myself up onto the sofa.

Max is there before me in an instant, bracing his hands against my knees. “Is…Is this how it was for you when your powers started?” he asks tentatively. I can see the guilt and remorse in his eyes. He’s beating himself up for not being there even though the truth of it is…I wouldn’t let him.

“Not at first,” I sigh, “But as I started to change inside I guess…sometimes it could be painful. I’d go blind or deaf…sometimes lose the ability to tell between hot and cold. Thankfully, the episodes only lasted a few minutes and I was usually okay afterwards.”

“But Claudia wasn’t okay, Liz,” Kyle points out, “She seemed to need Zan to bring her out of it. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, Kyle,” I mutter to myself, “That’s the part I don’t understand either.”

TBC

Chapter 12

Max

She’s peering through the lens of her microscope. Atop my computer desk she’s set up a makeshift, mini lab all but pushing my papers and patient files aside in a pile. I smile as I watch her study the recent sample she’s collected of Claudia’s cells, smile and remember when I used to watch her this way years before when we took Biology together. I remember how much I loved her then. It seems a pale comparison to what I feel for her now.

Currently, she’s muttering curses to herself while simultaneously blowing at the offending tendril of hair that’s fallen between her eyes. “I can’t believe he just took off on her like that,” she grumbles irritably, “Stupid damned son of a bitch. It would serve him right if she never forgave him.” She’s been mumbling to herself this way for well over an hour now, despite the fact that McKee is no longer present to hear her degrading epithets. I’ve been reluctant to interject my own opinions into her one-sided monologue since she seems to be covering all the bases quite well by herself.

I must admit that even I was shocked by McKee’s reaction this afternoon and I’ve never had extremely high expectations for the man. Somehow I could never imagine closing off to Zan the way McKee had closed off to Claudia. Even if my worst fears had been confirmed and my son proved to be the spit and shine image of his mother I still don’t believe I would have had the heart to turn him away so thoroughly. I doubt I’ll forget the heartbreak and anguish on Claudia’s features as she watched her father drive away for a long time to come.

“So,” I whisper against Liz’s ear as she continues her diligently study, “Making any headway?”

She swats me away like I’m a pesky insect. “Give me a sec,” she mutters, her eye still pressed against the microscope. But when I straighten and start to take myself off she snags hold of my sleeve and drags me back. “Max, come over here,” she demands, waving me down to her level, “Look at this.” She leans back so that I can peer down into the microscope lens and get a look at the sample. I’m surprised by what I find.

“Is this possible?” I ask her, “These…these cells look like a lot like mine.” In fact, remarkably so. With only a few slight variations the cells could be identical. “These are Claudia’s, right?” I wonder aloud.

Liz responds with a terse nod and then replaces the cell sample with yet another. “This is a scrape I did of Claudia’s cells when she was about six months old,” she explains as I lean back down to peer at her findings, “At the time, I couldn’t be sure if your healing me might have a variant effect on any future offspring so I decided to do some research.” That’s my Liz, always the scientist first, even when she was trying to purge everything alien from her life.

“These cells look pretty normal to me,” I say speculatively, “Except for these ones along the outer ridge…” My frown deepens. “What…what are those, Liz?”

“They’re dormant cells,” Liz answers darkly, “When Claudia was growing up everything about her was perfectly normal. She got sick like other kids, got her flu shots and vaccines like other kids. She was absolutely normal in every way except for those cells.” Liz reclines back in my swivel chair, massaging her temples a bit. “I checked her every year…fearful that some gigantic change was going to occur. But by the time she was eleven and nothing problematic had occurred I started thinking that maybe the cells were just a fluke…an anomaly and I was making a mountain out of a molehill. Nothing ever came of it until we moved back here.

“After I found out about Zan healing her I thought to check her cells then but our relationship was such a mess at that time that I seriously doubted Claudia would let me near her.” Liz pauses to grunt at the irony. “Truthfully I didn’t really put much effort into trying because I was so preoccupied with every else. And since she wasn’t exhibiting any changes I just put it on the backburner, especially after we were married everything continued to snowball so I kept putting it off.”

“Until today,” I conclude quietly.

“Until today.”

“And what have you found, Liz?” I ask, quaking a little at the dire quality of her tone.

“You saw the sample, Max. Apparently, the cells aren’t dormant anymore,” she tells me, “I can’t even tell where the normal cells used to be…”

“What are you thinking, Liz?”

“It’s like the abnormal cells eating the normal ones…almost like a cancer,” she tells me, “Max…I think Claudia is mutating…she’s changing…”

“Whoa! Whoa!” I explode, stunned beyond coherent speech by her theory, “Liz, don’t you think you might be jumping to conclusions here? You said that you went through this same thing yourself when your powers manifested and…and you haven’t mutated, have you? Maybe this is something else.”

“You’re right,” she concedes, “There is a slight variation in my cell structure now but not one nearly as complex as Claudia’s. But you’re negating one important fact, Max. Claudia was born with this predisposition…it’s in her genes.”

“Liz, I think you’re reaching,” I protest lamely, “There has to be another explanation.”

“You know this makes sense,” she whispers, “It’s like when Zan healed her…he woke up something in Claudia that’s been sleeping all these years. The pregnancy just seems to be speeding those changes along.”

I wilt back against my desk, my hip propped against the edge, my entire body slumped with the heaviness of this news. “So what does this mean?” I ask her, swiping a weary hand over my eyes, “Do you think Claudia is becoming alien or something. Is she like me now?”

“No, not like you and not like me either. It’s like she’s becoming an entirely different species all her own,” Liz reveals ominously, “I don’t guess David was too far off the mark when he claimed Claudia wasn’t his daughter anymore.”

I can hear the dejection in her tone, detect the self-blame and regret and it breaks my heart. She’s holding herself responsible now for McKee’s rejection because ultimately she holds herself responsible for passing the genetic anomaly onto Claudia in the first place. But she must realize that if she blames herself she’ll have to blame me as well. After all, I’m the primary reason for all these changes. I started this whole thing when I patched that bullet hole two inches below her ribs.

“It’s not the same,” Liz whispers, making me aware of the fact that my emotions have been chasing their way across my face quite plainly, “You saved my life that day in the Crashdown. It was a completely selfless act on your part, Max. You could have never known the possible ramifications that would spin off from that one action. But I did know. I knew there was a chance that I might pass some random alien gene onto my future children and yet I made the decision to get involved with David despite that knowledge.”

“Liz, don’t beat yourself up this way,” I murmur, cupping her chin and bringing her swimming gaze to mine, “Even if I had known the results of healing you in the Crashdown that day I still would have done it. Please don’t blame yourself for what’s happening now.”

“How can I not?” she cries brokenly, shaking off my touch, “The catastrophe that unfolded this afternoon is completely my fault, the direct result of my bad life decisions!” Abruptly, she jumps up from her chair and crosses over to the bed where she flings herself down against the mattress with a disconsolate sigh. “God, I can remember how I used to secretly blame Claudia for the direction my life went,” she recounts with bitter, remorseful tears, “I blamed her for my problems but really…I’m the reason for hers.” She dissolves into tears then, rolling into a fetal position and hugging her pillow against her body almost like a lifeline.

I go to her immediately, torn apart to see her in such emotional turmoil. When I stretch out beside her she sobs harder but she doesn’t roll away. I curl my body around hers, spooning against her and hooking my forearm across her waist to hold her there. “That is not true,” I whisper into her hair, “Does Claudia seem unhappy to you, Liz? She’s been progressing excellently in the last year and a large part of that is due to the emotional support she’s received from you, sweetheart. She’s stronger because she has you, otherwise what happened this afternoon would have shattered her.”

“That was all Zan’s doing,” she protests tearfully, shaking her head, “You saw them together, Max. They’re…amazing. He makes her whole.”

“She needs you, too, Liz,” I return, easily discerning the insecure feelings that she has left unspoken, “I doubt Claudia thinks you’re expendable to her.”

I’m unsure of whether my words have penetrated her exterior of grief and self-punishment until a moment later when she shifts in my arms so that we lie face to face. It takes some time but she finally lifts her head to regard me through the wet canopy of her eyelashes. “How is it that you haven’t grown tired of me by now?” she whispers thickly.

“That’s the same thing I ask myself about you,” I reply candidly, “Every day. I may not deserve you, Liz, but I thank God that I have you.”

Liz plucks at the collar of my shirt, her eyes fluttering away guiltily. “I don’t always do the right thing,” she admits hesitantly, “You…You were right about dinner tonight. It was a disaster. I should have listened to you.”

“You were just doing what you thought was best,” I counter and I’m surprised by my willingness to let her off the hook, especially considering the fact I went ballistic when she first presented the idea to me. But I suppose that’s what triggered our latest verbal battles to begin with, because I gave into my knee-jerk reaction instead of calmly reasoning out the decision with her. It’s likely she wouldn’t have gotten on the defensive if I had reacted with the latter. I wonder how many times I’ve done this to her in the past and how many of our recent fights could have been waylaid had I not let my fear get the best of me. I make a quick mental note to work on that about myself in the future.

“So does that mean you’re not mad at me?”

I brush a kiss across her forehead. “Do you really think I’d be mad at you after the day you’ve had?” is my chiding response, “And besides…dinner wasn’t a complete disaster. Michael did polish off a whole pie by himself and he was more than happy to relieve us of most of the food. At least he had a good time.” Just as I’d hoped she laughs at my gentle teasing and, for the moment, her tears and the reason behind them are forgotten. I wish the moment can last forever, but what is that they say about all good things ending?

“It definitely wasn’t the Thanksgiving I had envisioned,” she says after her laughter has subsided.

“You sound as if you expected a good one,” I observe in surprise.

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it good,” she amends, “But I certainly wasn’t expecting this afternoon’s disastrous results either.”

“Even with McKee in attendance,” I venture. When she nods I can’t stifle my dubious snort of disagreement. “Well, you obviously have a great deal more faith in the man than I do.”

“It’s not about faith really,” Liz explains carefully. She tips back her head so that she can see my face. “I still remember the man David used to be…the one I married. He was so kind and self-assured. I can’t reconcile him with the bitter, paranoid man we see today. I can’t believe that the man I knew doesn’t exist anymore despite his asinine behavior this afternoon.”

I feel a momentary stab of jealous anger over the fact that Liz can apparently forgive McKee very easily for his shortcomings and failures while it seemed she cut me off at the knees for mine. But then I quickly get a grip before my bitter thoughts can run their course. Reasonably, Liz would find it easier to forgive McKee. She never entrusted him with her heart. He never had the power to hurt her. I, on the other hand, ripped her apart. I had almost destroyed her. That’s a fact I must never let myself forget.

“I think David will come to his senses sooner or later, Max,” she tells me now, “Once he wraps his mind around everything he’ll realize what a mistake he’s made and try to atone. He’s probably going to be kicking himself over how he treated Claudia later. At least…I hope he will.”

I roll upright, pulling my knees against my chest and hooking my forearms around the tops. The bed shifts as she lifts up onto her elbow to regard me, but I don’t directly acknowledge her stare. “You…You sound as if you still care about him,” I state gruffly. I have to stomp down the jealous tide that accompanies my observation.

“I do care about him,” Liz replies but before my heart can explode with pain she adds, “But I’m not in love with him, Max.” She lays her hand against my shoulder and brings her chin to rest there. “I never was.”

I twist around to face her then. “Then why the hell did you marry him?” Her hand drops from my shoulder and she draws away from me, visibly staggered by the question.

The words flies from my mouth without any real thought. However, I can’t regret my harsh bluntness, not when this is a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to for more than a year. She’s asserted over and over that love never entered into the equation of their marriage so then I have to wonder what was the motivating factor. Was it only her pregnancy or had there been something more? Had it been lust, passion, mutual understanding? What had drawn her to him and kept her there for nearly fifteen years? What had prevented her from coming back to me?

“You tell me you didn’t love him,” I plod on when she doesn’t come through when an answer for my initial question, “and yet you married him, Liz. I can understand sleeping with him…the thought totally kills me, but I get it. But marriage… God, I just can’t wrap my brain around that one and don’t tell me it was only for Claudia’s sake. You must have loved him, Liz…you must have, even if it was only a little bit.”

I’m not expecting my monologue to open the floodgates of her feelings. Liz has spent a great number of years keeping her emotions to herself. I’m not looking for some sudden breakthrough, but I only want to put my feelings out there, to let her know where I’m at emotionally speaking.

“I’m not faulting you for it, you know,” I sigh and my tone has lost much of its edginess, “I just don’t get why you didn’t come back. I was waiting for you all that time. It’s like you had me in limbo. You wouldn’t give me the kiss-off, but then you wouldn’t let me close to you either. I called you almost everyday after you left for Vermont. Couldn’t you have taken even one call?”

“And if I had taken your calls,” she prompts softly, “If I had told you it was over and to leave me alone, would you have done it?”

Our eyes lock in a long, liquid stare. “No.”

“Now you know why I didn’t take your calls,” she says.

“Is that really the reason, Liz?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replies, but she’s lying and we both know it.

“Did you want me to leave you alone?” I demand boldly.

Another fathomless stare passes between us. “No,” she replies deliberately.

I have conflicting emotions about her confession. On the one hand I’m happy to know she wasn’t able to shake me as thoroughly as she had seemed to, but I’m saddened to realize that we had both been reduced to such petty games just to protect ourselves emotionally. This is my first real recognition of how far apart emotionally Liz and I have become. How can we possibly be soulmates when I’m not sure I know her soul anymore? God, how I want to change that. “I wish we were still going away,” I mutter, “We need it, Liz. We need it so much.”

“Why can’t we still go?” she asks, eyes round.

I’m surprised by her question. I hadn’t thought I’d be able to pry her away from Claudia’s side with a crowbar. “Well, I just thought… With this whole thing going on with Zan and Claudia and McKee…it just seemed like bad timing.”

“They still want us to go,” she whispers.

“Who?”

“Zan and Claudia. They gave us their blessing when I went in to take Claudia’s cell sample,” she tells me, “In fact, Claudia insisted. She said it would only make her feel worse if we put off the trip. They know how we need to get away, Max. And it will only be for one week otherwise I probably wouldn’t even consider it.”

“But Claudia…her dad,” I protest lamely.

“She has Zan. I know he’ll take care of her,” Liz replies, “How much can happen in seven days? They don’t have to be back at school until Tuesday and we’ll be back that Friday. They both decided to skip their classes for the week until this thing gets straightened out with David. They’ll stay here in the meantime.”

“What about McKee?” I ask, “What if he harasses them while we’re gone?”

“Then we’ll be on the first plane back home,” Liz decides on the spur, “Max, they won’t be alone. They’ll have Michael and Maria and Kyle and your parents. Zan and Claudia will be fine…we’re the ones in trouble. Please, let’s do this, Max. Let’s go away together and fix all these misunderstandings between us once and for all.”

“You make some very good arguments,” I observe casually. Really I’m looking forward to the prospect of going away despite all my protestations. We need this. A grin of pure excitement and anticipation starts to split my face. “Does this mean you’ll open up to me for a change?” I tease her.

She bites back a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay,” I agree finally, “Let’s get as much as we can squared away with the kids and then we’ll leave first thing Saturday.”

TBC

Chapter 13

Zan

“That was a great thing you did,” I tell Claudia as she sprawls out across my bed with a massive sigh, “I know you really wanted your mom to stay here, but you told her to go anyway.”

“Well, there’s no need in all of us being miserable, is there?” she brazens dully as she stares up at the ceiling. “Besides there’s not much she can do if she stays anyways. Dad made his feelings about me quite clear this afternoon. I doubt Mom would be able to change his mind.”

“Maybe this will blow over,” I whisper but without much conviction.

Claudia rolls her head against the pillow to regard me with a vacant stare. “I saw his face this afternoon, Zan,” she says brusquely, “He doesn’t want to have anything further to do with me.”

I’m usually not inclined towards physical violence but I could really work David McKee over right now. The self-doubt is flickering in Claudia’s eyes all over again and, like before, he’s the one who put it there. It has taken her over a year to build up her self-confidence and esteem and come to like herself as a person again. There were times when I thought we’d never see the light at the other end; times when I thought her tears would never stop. But eventually they did stop and Claudia was left stronger and better for it. But now…today…with one thoughtless reaction I’m afraid her father has pretty much shot all that progress to hell.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I nudge gently. She’s been off to herself all night, keeping her emotions bottled. I fear what will happen if she doesn’t release them soon. An explosion seems imminent…

But I can tell by the expression on her face that she’s no more inclined to talk than she had been an hour ago when I asked her the first time. She nibbles at her thumbnail and avoids direct contact with my eyes. “Not really,” she replies laconically. No surprise there.

“Are you’re sure,” I push, “I won’t say a word. You can just vent if you want.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she burst out sharply, but then looks as if she might dissolve into tears any moment over her harsh tone. “I’m sorry,” she adds in dull regret, “I don’t want to take this out on you.”

I reach out to stroke her fingers. “It’s okay,” I tell her, “If you don’t want to talk about it then we won’t talk about it. I only want for you to be okay.”

“I’m not…okay,” she whispers after an extended pause.

I nod my encouragement. It’s the most she’s divulged in more than two hours. “Is it just because of your dad?”

She shakes her head, lowering her eyes as she adds, “And the other, too.” In an unconscious gesture she begins fiddling with her still blond hair.

Yet, the other…the powers, a subject we have not discussed as yet just like the confrontation with her dad. But I’ve watched her waffle about it for the better part of the evening. She refuses to change her hair back and refuses to let me do it either. Instead, she’s spent the last four hours peering at the bleached roots curiously, as if she still can’t believe how the change came about. Her emotions have swerved madly from amazement to rapture to absolute disgust sometimes. I suspect she’s both repelled and compelled by the changes that have taken place within her. However, I wonder which emotion is stronger, the fascination or the horror.

“It looks like we’re the same now,” I whisper, just to test out her feelings about the matter, “I don’t feel so special anymore.”

She doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead her gaze because shuttered and inscrutable. I feel a shaft of bewildered hurt snake through my body. Claudia’s never hidden her feelings from me before. She’s never shut me out and I don’t know what to make of it now. I suddenly feel as if there’s a wall around her and I’m staring in from the outside. It’s a very unpleasant feeling.

“No, we’re not really the same,” she murmurs, “I’m pretty sure I’m something completely…different now. But we won’t know for sure until Mom tells us what she’s found.”

“And if you are…different?” I prompt carefully, “How do you think you’ll feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters, “Can we not talk about it anymore, Zan?”

Her request, while understandable, throws me into a tumult of doubt. I wonder if the possible misgivings she has about her changes are a reflection of how she secretly feels about me. If she thinks her new powers are freakish then does that mean she thinks I’m a freak as well? “No,” she whispers, pressing her hand against mine, “I don’t think you’re a freak, Zan. Please don’t think that either.”

I snap my startled gaze to her face. “How did you know that?” I demand tremulously. I’ve become accustomed to her being inside my mind when our connection is established, but this time was effortless…almost like she’s in tune with me. She might be shutting me out but I’m obviously very open to her.

And she’s just as started by her intuitive observation as I am, but I think right now both of us are too emotionally drained to try and puzzle it out now. There’s already enough weirdness going on without adding something new to the pile.

After a second or two Claudia pushes herself upright, folding her legs beneath her Indian style and shrugs uneasily. “I guess I just knew it,” she says, “I don’t suppose it matters in the long run how I knew. The point is that I do and it’s not true, Zan.” She scoots her body closer to mine so that she can press her face into the warm juncture of my shoulder. “I don’t want you to think my doubts are a reflection on you.”

“How do you expect me to feel?” I charge her gently, “You’re acting as if your entire world has come to an end. How can I not feel responsible?” She lifts her head then to regard me sympathetically, sighs my name. I shake my head over her cajoling tone. “Don’t do that. You obviously don’t want to be different,” I accuse her in hoarse emotion, “I’m the one who made you that way so that means it’s my fault.”

“Of course I don’t want to be different, Zan,” she half laughs as if the answer is a given, “Did you?”

I expel a relieved breath when I finally process what it is she’s trying to tell me. “So you’re in shock right now, I guess,” I conclude, “I honestly don’t mean to put any pressure on you, Cee. And…And I know I’m not making sense right now, but…I’m just afraid that if you’ll end up resenting me for…well, you know…the changes and…and what happened with your dad today.”

“You saved my life, Zan,” she says sardonically, “I can hardly kick you in the head over that, now can I?” She moves up to straddle my waist and tugs my hand up to lay it down against her breast. “You healed a bullet hole right next to my heart, remember?” she continues in a throbbing whisper, “I can still remember how it felt when you touched me. I came alive, Zan.” She frames my face in her hands. “Don’t ever be sorry for that.”

In this position, groin-to-groin, chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, I’m finding it hard to think. Only a few days ago we had been this close and I had kissed her breathless and now I’m hesitant and unsure. I don’t know if she’d welcome me and I don’t know if considering whether she would is right either. And so I shield my thoughts, cradle her close and pray that my body doesn’t betray what I’m really thinking.

I rub my hands up and down the length of her bare forearms. “I still can’t help but feel like this is all my fault.”

“Well, it’s not your fault,” she interrupts before I can go on my self-degrading tangent, “This whole entire thing with my dad is just out of control. What you saw in the living room this afternoon…that was the fairly tame part. Dad had given me an earful before we ever got back to the house.”

“So your fight was pretty bad, huh?” I conclude. It was something that hadn’t been beyond the realm of possibility but also something I didn’t want to push her to talk about. I knew she would come around eventually when she was ready. When she nods I ask her carefully, quietly, “Exactly how bad was it?”

“He wants me to have an abortion,” she whispers glumly.

“Oh, Cee…” I breathe out in pity. I had expected for her father to be upset, furious even but I hadn’t been prepared for such a severe reaction. As if by mutual, silent decision we fall back into the bed and curl into each other, cradling one another close. “What did you say?” I hope devoutly that she told him to “fuck off” but considering her emotional state I doubt that it’s likely she did. My burgeoning desire completely dissolves as my temper starts to simmer.

“I told him ‘no,’” she replies emphatically, “I told him that we wanted to keep the baby…that I loved you and he…he…”

“He what?” I encourage.

“He called her a ‘thing’, Zan,” Claudia sniffles, “He said she wasn’t a real baby because she wasn’t human and I had to get rid of her.”

“That son of a bitch!” I hiss.

“He thinks Mom has turned me or something,” Claudia continues in a mirthless laugh, “He talks about her like she’s been brainwashed and he thinks she’s brainwashed me, too. It’s like he thinks you and Max are some sort of cult.”

“Okay…I get that’s he’s upset but to call our baby a ‘thing’? That’s just crossing over the line, Cee,” I whisper, caught somewhere between trembling rage and horrified sorrow.

The idea that I’m the reason Claudia’s father is cutting her off is breaking me apart. Unlike my father I’m more worried over the probability that David McKee will destroy Claudia emotionally than the prospect of being turned over to the FBI. And as I lay there, the seconds ticking away persistently, I realize I have no words of comfort to offer. I have nothing to say that could possibly assuage the pain inside her right now. In the end, I make a lame and desperate offer to talk to her dad.

“That would be such a bad idea and for more reasons than you know,” she tells me, “You’ve got a double whammy against you, Zan. First of all, you’re an alien and Dad is determined to hate all things alien and secondly…you knocked me up. I think you’re the last person my dad will want to see.”

“Knocked you up?” I echo, frowning a little over her unromantic phrasing.

“His terminology, not mine,” she clarifies.

“Charming,” I quip bitterly, “Your dad’s a real upstanding guy, Cee.”

“He’s understandably upset,” she whispers in excuse, “I did blindside him today, not just about the baby, but about our relationship period. I’ve been lying to him this entire time. It’s no wonder he doesn’t think he knows me any more. I’ve messed things up again…as usual.”

“Ahh…God, Claudia, please don’t start blaming yourself,” I groan mournfully.

“You know I’m right,” she insists with a despondent frown, “If it can be destroyed then you can sure as hell guarantee that Claudia McKee, the Calamity Queen, will accomplish the job. Self-destructive is my middle name, remember?”

I tip my head back so I can study her dejected features. “Don’t talk about yourself that way,” I admonish her softly, “That’s not even the person you are anymore.”

“Really?” she challenges with one raised eyebrow, “How can you tell? Because I feel like the same screw-up I’ve always been.”

“You’re not a screw-up.”

She rolls away from me, laughing and sobbing hysterically. “You of all people know that’s not true, Zan,” she cries, “It’s only a matter of time before I drive you away the exact same way I drove away my dad!”

“Cee, don’t let him do this to you,” I whisper.

“He’s not doing anything,” she retorts, her hands gesticulating frenetically, “I did it to myself. I always do.” Though she mutinously swipes at the tears falling on her cheeks fresh ones are quick to replace them. “I asked for this when I lied to him all these months.”

“Why would you even think that?” I utter. When she won’t look at me I sit up and grasp her by the chin and force her to look at me. “Why?”

“I just feel like I’m ruining our lives,” she sobs, “My dad hates you and it’s all because of me, Zan. You’re finest person I’ve ever known but…but he can’t see that because I’m a screw-up. He blames you for my breakdown and…he just won’t see that I brought the whole thing on myself.”

“I thought you learned in therapy that our family catastrophes do not revolve around you, Cee,” I remind her, “You are not the be all and end all, sweetheart.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” she whimpers pitiably.

“That your dad’s an asshole,” I reply succinctly, “And a bigot.” She registers surprise at my assertion and I can see she’s trying to puzzle out how I arrived at my conclusion. “Your father hates me because I’m different, Cee. This doesn’t have anything to do with your pregnancy but everything to do with the fact I’m an alien.”

“I suppose that means he hates me now, too,” she deduces morosely, “He’ll probably throw me out of the house and never talk to me again.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, “Dad and Liz will put you up until school is over and then we’ll come back here to live with them until we figure out what to do next. You don’t ever have to think of your dad again.”

“But I want to think of him, Zan,” she counters miserably, “I don’t want him to hate me. I love him and I want him to love me back.”

My heart crying out to her, I pull her against me once more and cradle her in my arms like a little girl. She lays half in, half out my lap, her torso gathered against mine. “I know how that feels,” I whisper into the bangs falling across her forehead, “I used to wish that my mother had felt the same way about me. It killed me that she didn’t love me but you know what the worse part of that was?”

She shakes her head. “What?”

“My sadness over that one loss blinded me to the love I did have,” I tell her, “You, Claudia. And my dad. And Liz. And my grandparents…my aunt and uncle. The list goes on and on. There are so many people that love me…how could I ever feel like there was a lack? The same goes for you. There are so many people who love you, Claudia, who are privileged to know you…if your father wants to forgo that privilege then it’s his loss, not yours.” I smooth her hair back from her face, gradually coloring the blond strands to dark, glossy brown. “Please stop punishing yourself,” I whisper, “None of this is your fault.”

She nods and grabs at the fingers traveling through her hair then brings them to her lips. “Promise me something,” she implores thickly.

“Anything.”

“Promise me that our daughter will always know how much we love her…that we’ll give her all the love we missed out on growing up. Promise me that you’ll never turn her away because she disappoints you.” She’s gripping me hard by the end, as if she means to portray the emphatic nature of her words through her touch. I’m well aware of how much this means to her and, of course, I want to make it happen for her peace of mind…and for mine as well.

And so I smile and kiss her and I hold her closer than ever when I whisper solemnly, “I promise.”

TBC

Chapter 14

Liz

“I think you should tell your mother the truth before we leave tomorrow morning.”

I trip over my suitcase on my way to the bathroom and go sprawling across the bedroom floor with a small yelp. Max is there in a second, helping me to my feet and chuckling under his breath. “Are you okay?” he asks, sweeping his hands over my legs and arms as he does.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper vaguely, “You just caught me off guard a second ago. Did you just suggest I tell my mother the truth…as in the truth about you?” I finish, round-eyed with shock.

“It’s time for her to know, Liz,” he tells me gently, “After yesterday happened with Claudia I know Nancy has got a million questions. You can’t keep dodging her forever.”

“W-Well…couldn’t we wait until after we come back from North Carolina,” I stutter out hopefully, “I promise I’ll tell her then.”

“I doubt Nancy will wait that long, Liz,” Max reasons, “Either she’ll get her answers from you or she’ll try and badger them out of Claudia while we’re away. And right now Claudia is very vulnerable. I don’t know if she’d be able to hold up under your mother’s probing and I doubt you want Claudia in a position of staving her off. Besides Nancy should definitely hear the truth from you.”

“You can’t really think this is a reasonable solution,” I burst out, aghast. The idea of telling my mother…God, I shudder to think of the consequences to that one. After the disaster with David I think my apprehension is reasonable so I have to wonder why Max seems so calm and accepting of the prospect.

“I don’t see that we have much choice in the matter anymore,” he counters, “Claudia shooting out green sparks is not something easily explained away. Your mother loves Claudia dearly. She deserves an explanation for what’s going on.” He loops my arm about his waist and leads me over to the bed, knowing that my knees are like jelly and unable to support me. “I’ll go with you,” he offers when we’ve sat down, “We’ll do this together.”

“I don’t understand…when did you decide all this?” I cry out in exasperation, “Where was I?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night after we talked,” he says, “I kept thinking about how this secret is getting too big for us to continue to keep it from your mother. I mean, between Justin’s unpredictable powers and Claudia short-circuiting we’re going to have to tell her something.” He heaves a pensive sigh. “I think it’s a good idea. She’ll be shocked at first, but I think she’ll get over it eventually.”

“You sound so sure,” I mumble. Even I don’t have that kind of confidence. Max does not know my mother nearly as well as I do. Her reaction could be perfectly calm and rational or she could fly off the handle in panicked hysteria. Both scenarios scare me witless.

“I keep remembering how my mom and dad reacted when I told them,” he recalls with a small chuckle, “They thought I was on drugs but when I demonstrated my powers I don’t think they knew quite how to react. We didn’t actually sit down and talk about it until two days later, after some of their shock had worn away. But, in the end, they accepted me, Isabel and Zan like it was nothing. It will be the same with your mom.”

“You have more faith in her than I do,” I wisecrack.

He rolls his lips inward to hide his answering smile but I see it anyway. “Despite the fact you and Nancy spend most of your time at each another’s throats I know your mother loves her grandchildren. She won’t do anything to jeopardize their safety or harm them emotionally.” I can sense the unspoken comparison he’s made to David with that statement, not to mention his disdain at finding David severely lacking in the parental department. I can honestly say that, right now, David isn’t winning any award for “Father of the Year” with me either.

We haven’t heard from him since last night, which has both surprised and disappointed me. I counted on the fact that he’d be upset with the revelation of Claudia’s pregnancy, especially because he hadn’t even known she was in a relationship. But his reaction last afternoon was so beyond the top…so uncalled for… He shattered Claudia emotionally and then simply walked away.

Now my disappointment has gradually escalated to burning fury after an evening of watching Claudia mope around the house. Each time I had approached her and offered a shoulder she’d rebuffed me. Last I had checked Zan wasn’t making any progress with her either. The only one who can possibly fix this is David and he’s too busy being an asshole. Considering all that and his reaction I’m rather reluctant to induct yet another member into the “I Know An Alien” club, especially one as emotionally volatile as my mother.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Max whispers, “And I really believe that the pros outweigh the cons this time.” I don’t respond but I imagine my expression is skeptical. “Liz, we both need to be onboard with this,” he continues reasonably, “If you don’t agree that we should tell her then we’ll think of something else.”

“We don’t have to do that,” I sigh, relenting finally, “It’s your secret to tell, Max. If you want my mother to know then we’ll tell her.”

“It’s not as if you’re facing an execution, Liz,” he teases softly.

“Then why does it feel like it?” I grouch in reply. And then my mood becomes even more somber than before as I put my mother from my mind completely and ask, “So…you got up before I did. Have you seen Zan and Claudia this morning?”

“I have.”

“And? How do they seem?” But he knows what I’m really asking. How does Claudia seem?

“She’s devastated, Liz, as expected,” he says, “But she’s putting on the usual Claudia brave face. Zan says she doesn’t really want to talk about her feelings much and so he’s not pushing her.”

“So then she probably won’t talk to me either, huh?”

“Probably not,” Max says, “Give her some time. Claude’s a resilient girl…she’ll bounce back from this, Liz. In the meantime, you and I need to head on over to the Crashdown and talk to your mother.”

Just when I was almost relaxing… “You want to do it this morning?” I bleat.

Max shrugs. “There’s little point to putting it off longer than we have to.”

I dress rather mechanically after that. My day, which had begun with a mild cloud of gloom, is now saturated with trepidation as well. I had anticipated lazing about the house and attempting to coax a smile from my daughter. Instead, I will be explaining to my mother how my husband is from outer space and my children have alien abilities. I can really see her embracing the news. Not!

While Max gives last minute instructions to the physician who will be attending patients in his stead I shuffle into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, mentally composing what I will tell my mother. I find Claudia there, sitting quietly at the tiny island in the middle of the room, her World Civilization textbook spread before her. She’s not even looking at the pages. “Studying?” I inquire though it’s evident she’s not.

“Preparing for the final,” she replies laconically. Not the most auspicious start but at least she didn’t ignore me.

“Where’s Zan?” I ask her because that seems the easiest thing to say and a guaranteed means of keeping our conversation going.

“I wanted donuts,” she tells me, “So he went to the store. He took Justin with him.” And before I can open my mouth to ask, she adds, “And yes…he’s using the car seat. He got it from the back of Max’s car.”

“That’s good,” I say, mollified, “And he went for donuts, you said?”

“I had a craving,” she explains.

I laugh a little. “Enjoy it while it last,” I advise as I grab a coffee mug from the cupboard, “Once you have the baby all that solicitous sweetness is over.” She doesn’t even crack a smile. “Your dad didn’t call last night, huh?” I abandon the mug on the counter and slide onto the barstool across from her.

She snaps her book closed. “You weren’t expecting him to, were you?” she asks morosely.

“Were you?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters, “It’s like I get how he’s reacting considering all the lies I told him and everything but at the same time it just…”

“Hurts?” I provide gently.

She shrugs and shovels her fingers through her disheveled hair. “It’s like he hated me,” she laments softly, “I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again.”

“You’ll see him again,” I tell her, “He just needs time to calm down. Don’t try to seek him out but let him come to you, sweetheart. He owes you the apology not the other way around.”

Again she shrugs, as if she doesn’t care one way or the other but I know better. I also know better than to push. In the end it doesn’t matter because Claudia is quite adept at changing the subject. She rakes me with a speculative once-over. “So you’re dressed already?” she queries with a frown, “Are you going somewhere?”

I nod. “Max and I are going over to the Crashdown to see your grandmother. Do you think you’d mind watching your brother while we’re gone?”

“Not a problem,” she says, “Why are you going to see Grandma at eight o’clock in the morning? I thought she had the Crashdown under control now that’s she’s hired those new assistant managers.”

“This isn’t Crashdown business. Max and I have decided to tell her the truth.” I’m not prepared for her reaction at all. Claudia dives into a full-fledged panic, shaking her head wildly.

“What! Mom, no! Please don’t do that,” she pleads, “Please don’t!” She even grabs my hand for emphasis, squeezing it tightly. “You can’t tell Gram about me.”

“Claude, we can’t keep it a secret any longer,” I reason with her, mildly alarmed by her reaction, “Mom nearly badgered me to death about what happened with you before she left last night and then she called at least ten times when she got home. I’ve been dodging her, but that can’t go on forever. I have to tell her something.”

“Can’t you just make up some other excuse?” Claudia cries, “Do you have to tell her about me and my…my changes?”

“Sweetheart, what are you so afraid of?”

“I just…well, see…” she stammers weakly, “What if Gram has the exact same reaction Dad did? I…I just couldn’t take that, Mom.”

“Your Gram wouldn’t do that to you, Claude,” I whisper gently. And I realize as I’m reassuring her that it’s true. Mom might be outraged that I’ve lied to her all these years, she might even be shocked, but she won’t ever turn Claudia or Justin away.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think my dad would do it to me either,” she returns sullenly as she pushes herself off the stool, dragging her textbook along with her, “Do whatever you want. You always do.”

“Claudia, wait!” I cry, snagging hold of her wrist when she would have left, “Why don’t you come with us today?” When she starts to shake her head negative I rush to add, “Zan can keep Justin while we’re gone. I don’t want you to feel like Max and I are going over your heads with this. We want you to be a part of it, too.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for Gram to know,” she whispers. She shakes her head slightly. “No, scratch that,” she amends, “I know I’m not.”

I tuck errant strands of hair behind her ears, a little nostalgic over how young she seems at this second and so incredibly vulnerable. “Baby, we’re against the wall right now,” I tell her, “Do you want Gram hounding you for the answers or, worse yet, going to your father? He’ll undoubtedly give her a slanted view of things and that won’t work out well for anyone.”

Her smooth forehead crinkles in a frown. “God, you’re just as logical as Zan sometimes,” she remarks, disgruntled, “I hate that.”

“Does that mean you’re going with us?” I prod hopefully.

She replies with an eye roll and a sigh, “Just let me catch a quick shower first.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“So that’s the entire truth, Mom,” I finish with an relieved sigh and then I add when my confession sparks no reaction, “Well…aren’t you going to say anything?” I really don’t know what she’s thinking at all or if she’s even capable after such a shock. I may be expecting too much, too soon. She’s just sitting there on the opposite side of the booth table; her faded blue eyes wide and blank with dubious surprise.

“So your husband…Max…” she begins carefully, flicking Max with a brief glance, “You’re telling me that’s he’s an alien?”

“Yes.”

“An outer space alien?”

“Yes.”

“And when you were sixteen he healed you after you were shot right here in the Crashdown?”

“Yes.”

She hazards another blank look over towards Max. “Show me again,” she demands. Max obligingly flattens his hand against the tabletop and changes the marbled surface to a bright, glossy pink. Mom’s eyes flare with shock even though she’s previously seen Max demonstrate his powers once already. “I…I can hardly believe this,” she breathes out dazedly, “God…I think I might have a heart attack.”

When she actually presses her palm to her chest I panic slightly and make a desperate grab for her hand. “Mom, I know this is a lot to process,” I begin gently, “Please try and stay calm.”

She swallows, nods, and pauses to take a large gulp from the glass of water Claudia served her earlier. “Part of me thinks you’re out of your mind, Lizzie,” she says, “But then part of me thinks I’m out of mine.”

“It’s a lot to process,” I agree.

“Are there more of you?” Mom asks Max carefully. And then she shakes her head in laughing chagrin. “Good God, I can’t believe I just asked that,” she mutters, “But what more could I expect from Roswell friggin New Mexico?”

“Nancy, it’s okay,” Max tells her gently, “No, there aren’t any more of us, at least to my knowledge. As far as I know Isabel, Michael, and I are the only ones left of our kind.”

“Oh my God…Michael!” Mom gasps in disbelief, “He worked here…we…we hired him…and…”

“Mom, they’re not dangerous,” I explain carefully, “Max, Michael and Isabel are just like us except…well, they’re aliens.”

“Aliens,” Mom parrots in a dazed murmur and then, for another countless time, her eyes flare wide. She pins Max with a frenzied stare. “Does that mean your son…and Justin…?”

“They have some abilities,” Max confirms softly.

“Did your father know about this?” Mom asks slowly. I shake my head slowly. “But you’re telling me now, even though you didn’t tell him?”

“I’m telling you, Mom,” I confirm gently.

“Good,” she says and I get the impression that she’s pleased to learn I’ve shared something with her that I hadn’t shared with Dad. Maybe the realization helps her feel closer to me after what seems like a lifetime of fighting. “Good,” she murmurs again before closing her eyes so she can absorb all the news I’ve given her.

“That explains a lot…so much makes sense,” Mom babbles on, “So very much. Now I know and… God, Justin…my baby…and when things would fly across the room…change color…” She laughs to herself. “For I minute I thought I was going senile.” She starts to take another gulp of water when a new thought occurs to her. “Oh God!” she explains, her hands flying to her cheeks in dismay, “Claudia, did you know…that Zan was an…an…”

“Yes, Gram, I knew,” Claudia tells her calmly, “I’ve known since the beginning.”

“Mom,” I say, reclaiming her attention, “Zan healed Claudia much the same way Max healed me. That night of the robbery…Claudia was shot in the chest. She probably would have died that night but Zan saved her life.” I can see that she’s trying to process everything I’m telling her, but not everything is computing. “Remember, how I told you that when Max healed me he changed me?”

Mom nods jerkily. “He…He gave you powers.”

“That’s right,” I confirm, “And when Zan healed Claudia it was the same way, only a little different because Claude was born with the changes.”

“Born with them?” Mom echoes.

“When I was pregnant with Claudia I passed on dominant and recessive genes,” I expound, “Some of those genes were alien.”

“Does that mean Claudia’s not human?” she wonders fretfully.

“For the most part she is,” I reply vaguely.

Mom looks up at Claudia where she stands off from the booth. She looks as if she expects for Mom to denounce her on the spot. “Did you know about that, too?”

Not looking directly at her grandmother Claudia replies, “I didn’t find out until yesterday. I’m still dealing with it.”

“Oh my poor baby,” Mom murmurs sympathetically, “Come here.”

When Mom opens her arms to Claudia she can’t fly into them fast enough. As I watch my mother cradling and kissing my child I feel a slight stab of envy. Those kisses and hugs never seemed to be in wild abundance when I was involved. However, I squelch my feelings of jealousy in favor of dwelling on the positive. Thankfully, Mom didn’t reject Claudia, which was exactly what Claudia had feared. And now that the worry is behind us I don’t feel nearly as much foreboding as before about dropping my second piece of life-altering news.

“So is that all then,” Mom asks, continuing the cradle Claudia in her arms, “Or is there something else I should know?"

“Actually,” I add, ignoring Claudia’s imperceptible stiffening when I begin to speak, “There is one other, small detail…”

TBC

Chapter 15

Claudia

I stare across the bed at my cell phone lying harmlessly on the pillow, willing it to ring while grateful beyond measure that it doesn’t. As much as I want to hear from my dad I know that a conversation with him will only end with more hurtful words. And really I’m in no mind frame to deal with that despite my secret and dim hope that he will call to make up.

Mom and Max are leaving this morning. I haven’t said much about their departure because I want to put on a happy face for them. I know they need the break. Covertly, however, I’ve been stuffing my face with turkey, macaroni and cheese, cakes and pies when no one is looking. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve gained ten pounds in the last two days. I’m the unfortunate victim of holidays, pregnancy and depression. No woman should have to experience those three things simultaneously. Even at this exact moment I’m closeted away in Zan’s room, spread across his bed like a beached whale consuming massive quantities of fat and watching reruns of SpongeBob Squarepants.

The door yawns open unexpectedly and I quickly shove my carton of vanilla ice cream beneath a nearby pillow. “What are you doing?” Zan asks with a curious frown. No doubt he’s on mistrustful alert due to my round-eyed expression. I shift and the empty potato chip bag beneath my hip crumples noiselessly.

“What?” I return with feigned innocence but I get the distinct impression there’s a dollop of ice cream at the corner of my mouth. I feel there with the tip of my tongue. Yup…ice cream…might as well stamp a neon “guilty” on my forehead. As inconspicuously as I can I use the tip of my toe to scoot my hidden package of Strawberry Cheesecake Fig Newtons further beneath the covers.

“Are you eating again?” he demands suspiciously.

“I’m watching television,” I reply, defensive, “Is that a crime?” He doesn’t need to know that I downed an entire package of powdered donuts on my own not more than a half hour ago. I almost laugh to myself with the thought. There was a time that, when I was depressed, I would throw tantrums that could put a two-year old to shame. In recent years, however, I’ve mellowed and instead of pitching a fit like a toddler I instead eat a toddler’s weight in food. Thank God for my speedy metabolism.

“Dad and Liz are leaving in a few minutes,” he tells me, “You should come and say good-bye to them.”

“I was,” I retort tartly, “I didn’t want to hover while they finished up the last of their packing.”

“I wasn’t sure,” is his mild reply, “You’ve been locking yourself away in here for the past two days, Cee. I thought you might try to avoid them altogether.”

“I’m depressed,” I declare brusquely, “I think I’m entitled to mope.”

He doesn’t take offense at my snarky tone, which ironically, only serves to irritate me all the more. Why does he have to be so friggin patient and loving all the time? Why does he stand there just staring at me like a kicked puppy? At least if he were obnoxious right back I wouldn’t feel so bad about being a bitch to him. To make matters worse he doesn’t even attempt to argue with me, but only folds his arms over his chest as he leans into the doorjamb. “Okay, fine,” he says with a shrug, “You wanna mope…so mope, but I don’t think it’s making you very happy.”

How I want to toss a Newton at his head right this second. I probably would, too, if that wouldn’t be a waste of precious food. More aggravating than his patience is his natural penchant for being right. “What makes you think you know me so well,” I challenge in biting bravado. He graces me with a supremely knowing look. The cookie seems more and more like a sterling idea. And then I give up all pretense and snatch my carton of ice cream from beneath the pillow. Almost defiantly, I shoveled a large spoonful into my mouth. “There,” I say when I’ve rid myself of a mouthful, “If I want eat and it makes me happy what’s the harm in it?”

Zan crosses the room and perches himself on the edge of his bed, the corner of his mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “The last time you packed food away like this it was right after Dad and Liz got married and went on their honeymoon.”

“So?”

“So…you were still very scared and insecure about your position in your mother’s life back then, Cee,” he clarifies gently, “But you got over that, babe. This,” he continues, gesturing towards my ice cream as well as the bulge in the sheets where I’ve hidden my cookies, “You don’t need to do this. You’re not that scared, insecure girl anymore.”

“My dad pretty much announced I was a freak and walked out on me,” I retort curtly, “Should I do a tap dance of joy?”

Again he ignores my sarcasm. “I get that your dad shook your confidence in yourself,” he replies, “But don’t let him undermine all the progress you’ve made in the last year.”

Because I know he’s trying to be helpful I attempt to temper my irritation. “Logically, I get what you’re saying to me,” I sigh despondently, “But this isn’t about logic, Zan. My dad hates me. You can’t reason around that. And it just hurts okay…no matter how many people are in my corner.”

He pats my hand, looking despondent at my reply. “I just want you to feel better,” he says.

“Zan, you can’t fix this,” I tell him gently, “You can’t just swoop down like a white knight and save me every time I’m in trouble. I…I just need you to be there for me, listen to me when I vent, binge on food with me, but…I don’t want you trying to tell me how I should feel. I hate that.”

“That wasn’t what I was trying to do.”

“I know, but between you and your pitying glances and Mom hovering about like she expects me to breakdown any minute I’m starting to feel like I really might snap at any second.”

It’s not that I’m annoyed that he cares. I’m overjoyed. There have been pitifully few people in my life who have given a rat’s ass about me and that includes my own parents. And though I’m well past the bitterness stage and able to understand that their screwed up lives were what contributed to my screwed up life the realization still sucks. So yeah, Zan’s love and attention can be like a soothing balm at times. But then at others… I wonder if he cares too much.

I venture a glance at him now and he looks…stunned, like he doesn’t know whether he should be offended or not. “I’m not trying to pick at you,” I sigh expansively, “I would just really appreciate it if you would stop trying to fix me.” I’m a little surprised but definitely grateful when he nods his agreement. “Good,” I breathe with a smile, “Now that we’ve put that behind us…” I reach beneath the covers to retrieve my Newtons and pop one into my mouth. “I was running out of hiding places for my stash.”

I’m trying to lighten the mood and Zan must pick up on that because he smiles at me. “So okay…would I be trying to ‘fix you’ if I asked you to come to the living room with me to say good-bye to Dad and Liz?”

“I couldn’t do it without you.”

When we enter the living room it’s like stepping into pandemonium. Max is yakking away on his cell phone while simultaneously carting suitcases out into the foyer. Mom is balancing a howling Justin on her hip while going down the list of instructions with Aunt Maria. She appears hurried and harassed, but the second she spots me a beatific smile spreads across her face. I immediately feel like a horse’s ass for avoiding her so long.

“Let me take the baby,” Maria volunteers when she spies our exchanged look, “Zan, why don’t you help your father pack the bags into my trunk.” A few seconds later the living room is empty save for Mom and me. The moment is definitely contrived but at the moment I’m much too nervous to care. I suddenly don’t have the faintest notion what to say to my motehr.

“Are you sure you want me to go?” “Have a safe trip!” we burst out simultaneously. We exchange another look and a bubble of laughter. “Okay,” Mom says, “Why don’t you start?”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her and I feel like I’ve said so one hundred times in the last two days, “I have Aunt Maria and Zan…even Gram is starting to come around.”

I think some of the shock of learning about my pregnancy is starting to fade though she’s given me at least two dozen lectures since then. But the worst was definitely when she pressed a box of condoms into my hand with the brisk decree that I use them religiously once the baby was born. My cheeks are still flaming with humiliation over that one. But even still I’m willing to brave Gram and her well intentioned, though ill-timed advice about sex just so Mom and Max can have some time away alone together.

“You need this time away with Max,” I tell her now, “You’re looking forward to it…I can see it on your face.”

“I could still stay…” she offers softly.

“I know you need it, Mom,” I insist again, but then I add in a whisper, “You need to concentrate on your marriage. I know you’ve been fighting lately.”

Her eyes pin me in a surprised stare before skittering away. “How did you know that?” she whispers.

“Maria told me.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Mom mutters.

“Don’t be mad at her,” I defend quickly, “I needed to know. You should have told me.” She makes no argument to that though I imagine she’s got a dozen or so wanting to trip off her tongue. “You have to stop treating me like I’m going to break apart with every little crisis.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” she says.

“But you upset me when you’re trying not to upset me,” I reply emphatically, “I can handle real life, Mom. You can stop sheltering me.”

“I guess I just want to make it up to you for all those times I wasn’t there when you were a little girl,” she whispers mournfully.

“But I’m not a little girl anymore,” I return gently, “I’m all grown up now…all set to be a mother and a wife myself in only a few months time. We can’t get back that time, Mom, but we can try being friends now. Maybe it’s not what you wanted or expected but it might just turn out better than what you’d hoped for.” I hold out my arms to her and it’s weird, in this moment, I feel more like the parent than the child. “What do you say?”

Again I’m struck by our role reversals when she comes into my arms. I’m cradling her instead of the other way around. It’s ironic really. I’m the one who has suffered the emotional breakdown and several shrinks but in many ways I’m much more together than Mom is.

When we break apart, however, she’s back to being the Mom again, smoothing my hair back from my face in loving strokes. “You can call my cell phone any time,” she tells me, “I could care less about the roaming charges.”

“I know.”

“And if there’s any trouble Maria will be here until Max and I can get back home.”

“I know,” I emphasize in my most long-suffering tone.

She cradles my cheeks and sighs. “You’re right. You’re a grown woman now…I should stop crowding you.”

“It would be nice,” I remark a little sardonically, but then I smile and quickly add, “But you don’t have to back off altogether. I’d still like to know you care.”

“Okay,” she says, stepping back with yet another sigh, “You’ll be fine while I’m gone, but if there’s any trouble you know to--,”

“Yes, I will call you,” I finish mockingly.

Mom nods briskly. “Good. I want you to take care of yourself, Claude,” she tells me, “Don’t eat too many sweets. You’ll make yourself sick.” I arch a challenging eyebrow at her as if to say, “Who me?” She makes a mild tsking sound with her tongue. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the food disappearing? Just go easy, okay, or we’ll have to grease you down just to fit you through the doorway.”

“But I’m eating for two, remember,” I tease and just for effect I smooth my hands down my still flat tummy. Really it hasn’t occurred to me until that second that my food binging may not be due completely to hunger. But I’m still adjusting myself to the reality of this pregnancy. The situation continues to be a surreal experience.

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Mom returns, half joking, half serious, “It still hasn’t sunk in completely that my baby is going to have a baby. Give me a little more time before you start making light of it.”

I offer her a snappy salute. “Will do, mon capitan!”

A few moments later Zan and Max shuffle back into the house to announce that Maria’s small, sporty car has been packed full with luggage. Maria rejoins us in the living room with a surprisingly subdued Justin and we all engage in sappy good-byes. In hindsight I know I’ll probably laugh over our utter ridiculousness. Mom and Max are only leaving for a week, after all. It’s not like they’re going to serve as missionaries over in the Middle East. After what seems like endless hugging and kissing Maria finally manages to usher Mom and Max out the front door, leaving Zan and I alone with our baby brother while she whisks them off to the airport.

“So what do you want to do now?” Zan asks when they’re gone.

I take one look at Justin’s trembling lower lip and I know the next hour is not going to be good. My baby brother doesn’t disappoint. After shadow puppets, impressions of Mickey Mouse, slap stick comedy and, as a last resort, my fourteen-year-old copy of “Finding Nemo” Justin finally falls into an exhausted sleep, but not before taking Zan and me to the brink of madness with his incessant crying.

“Do you think this is what it will be like when we have our baby?” I ask Zan when I flop down beside him on the sofa.

“God…I hope not,” he groans with a shudder, “I thought he would never stop. He’s asleep now but I swear I can still hear him crying in my head.”

I favor him with a mournful look. “I suppose it’s too late to back out now,” I venture wryly.

“Um…yeah…just a little,” he quips sardonically. Zan grinds the pads of his fingers into his eyes and then flicks me with a weary glance. “Claudia, I just don’t know…I don’t know if we can do this. I mean when Justin was crying I didn’t know what to do to make him stop or…or how to make him happy. I had no idea what he needed. Part of me just wanted to say screw it, stick him in his crib, close his door and let him wail his head off. Isn’t that fucked? What the hell kind of father am I gonna make?”

“I felt the same way,” I confess meekly.

Zan snorts under his breath. “A fine pair we are, huh?” He palms his forehead wearily. “Our kid is definitely done.”

I curl up onto the sofa, drawing my legs beneath my body. “We messed up, didn’t we?” I ask him gently.

“Yeah, I think we did,” he answers, rolling his head to face me, “But you know what?”

“What?” I return softly.

“I can’t regret it, Cee,” he tells me, “I know we messed up. I know we could potentially ruin our daughter’s life if we don’t get our act together but I don’t think this is an entirely bad thing. I think Cassidy’s going to teach us how to be adults. She’s gonna grow us up, Cee…fast.”

I flash him a startled smile. “Cassidy?” I echo in surprise, “You’ve named her already?”

Zan ducks his head sheepishly. “It’s…it’s not official or anything,” he rushes to explain, “I just didn’t want to keep referring to her as ‘the baby.’ We don’t have to call her Cassidy if you don’t like it.”

“No,” I protest softly, “I think I like it. How’d you come up with the name?”

He frames the juncture of my hip with his hand, so that he can stroke his thumb lightly over my belly. “I was thinking ‘Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,’” he tells me, “You know…that movie with Paul Newman and Robert Redford?”

“You’ve got to be joking,” I guffaw.

“No seriously,” Zan says, fighting efforts not to smile, “I thought Cassidy sounded like a really tough name and our daughter…well, let’s just say with us as her parents I expect her to be one tough cookie.”

I’m warmed by his words, like always. I don’t know how I keep from being in a perpetual state of simpering when I’m around him. “Just like her grandmother,” I venture.

“No, sweetheart,” he whispers solemnly, “Just like you.”

TBC

Chapter 16

Max

I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anything more opulent than the Biltmore Estate in wintertime. As we motor up the long, winding drive in our rented sedan I can do little more than stare out the windshield in slack-jawed amazement. There’s a pristine blanket of snow covering the ground and leafless trees, shrouding everything as far as the eye can see in crystalline wonder. I feel much the way I did when I first emerged from the pod, as if I’m looking out at a brand new world.

“So?” Liz questions excitedly beside me, “What do you think?”

I smile at her, more enthralled now with the sparkle in her dark eyes than I was with the enchanting landscape before me. She’s absolutely breathtaking at this moment, timeless. I never want to stop looking at her. “I…I think it’s breathtaking,” I say, but my words are strangled with emotion. I then clear my throat and force my gaze back out onto the terrain. “The pictures from the Internet didn’t do this place justice at all.” I’m speechless with amazement at this second and this is only the inn. I can’t imagine what the actual estate must be like.

Liz peers out the side window, her expression awe-struck and enamored. “I don’t think so either,” she breathes, “I can hardly believe this place is real.” She flashes me another smile. “They definitely don’t have anything like this in Roswell, New Mexico.”

“I can’t get over the snow,” I tell her, “There’s so much of it.” I’ve spent most of my life in the desert where snow is a novelty. I almost want to stop the car and go stomping through it just to assure myself that it’s real. Unable to do that for the moment I content myself with driving slowly up the entrance way so that I can peruse the scenery at my leisure. It doesn’t matter that there is a line of cars forming behind us. Right this second everything is perfect. “This is amazing.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Liz scoffs with a laugh, “When I lived in Vermont the snow used to get as high as our knees. Claudia loved it. David and I would take her out in her snow suit and she’d literally disappear into the drift. I remember how red her cheeks would get and how she used to giggle so…” She trails off into silence, her tone becoming nostalgic, almost wistful. The realization must make her uncomfortable because her features gradually become remote as well, as if she fears that she’s revealed too much. Her next statement confirms my suspicion. “It was a long time ago,” she announces dismissively.

But I don’t want to dismiss it. This is the first time ever that she’s voluntarily revealed anything about her time in Vermont. This is the first time I’ve had any inkling that she might have been happy in her marriage once. I swamped with rabid insecurity at the thought and like a little child I need reassurance. Now that she’s opened the door I’m determined not to let her close it.

“How long did you live in Vermont?” I ask her softly, rather surprised to realize that I don’t know.

In fact, I hardly know anything about my wife’s first marriage other than the fact it wasn’t a love match. But I have no idea how Liz met McKee, where they stayed or even at what point she decided that she didn’t love him. Before now I’ve been reluctant to ask and, I suspect, Liz has been equally reluctant to tell me. But after the last two progressive days we’ve had the last thing I want is for her to cover herself over with that protective armor again. I suddenly want to know everything about her life when we had been apart, even if it’s painful. I suppose part of me needs to be reassured that the past doesn’t matter anymore, that it holds no power. And I can’t really believe that now…not when she seems so reluctant to talk about it.

“Well,” I prod when she turns towards the window without a response, “How long were you there?”

She gives me a cursory look before finally sighing out her answer in an affronted huff, “Nearly five years. David and I moved to D.C. shortly after Claudia’s fourth birthday. It wasn’t nearly as much snow there.”

“Why did you decide to move? You decided you didn’t like it or something?” I imagine my question must sound accusatory to her ears and in many ways it is. A few minutes ago she hadn’t sounded like she disliked it. She’d sounded like that time was one of the best in her life. I can feel the heat of jealousy begin to crest inside me.

“We moved with David’s job,” she says in a tone that warns me to drop it now. But, of course, I push. I can’t stop myself.

“He couldn’t get a job in Vermont?” I wonder.

“There were other mitigating factors,” Liz answers vaguely.

“What mitigating factors?”

Liz heaves an angry sigh. “David’s mother, okay!” she snaps in a hiss, “Susan pretty much decided that she didn’t like me and she never would. She was always putting David in the middle and it wasn’t fair. She made life for us very…difficult.”

“So it wasn’t difficult already?” I ask her. I know my tone is slipping from mild curiosity to outright badgering but I really can’t help myself. Her responses are causing alarm rather than relieving it. I’m wondering if Liz’s marriage to David was as unhappy as she’s led me to believe.

She frowns at me, evidently having reached the zenith in her store of patience with my probing questions. “Why does it matter?” she demands in exasperation, “It was years ago and David and I are over now! We’re on our vacation together, Max! Why are you suddenly cross-examining me about my first husband?”

“You said you wanted to put the past behind us,” I remind her gently, “How can we do that if you refuse to talk about it?”

“Yes, but I meant our past, Max,” she enunciates coolly. Her message comes through loud and clear. We can discuss any and everything except the one thing I really want to know about.

“It’s just a question,” I say to her, “Why are you being so touchy?”

“Why are you so determined to know about it,” she counters snippily.

Almost predictably then by the time we reach the inn entrance neither of us is speaking to one another. The valets are very jovial and accommodating when taking care of our bags but Liz and I hardly spare them a glance because we’re too preoccupied with exchanging hateful glances. After dutifully pressing a five-dollar bill into the valet’s palm Liz and I enter the Inn and promptly part ways. She goes wandering over in the lobby area while I head to the counter to check us in. A few minutes later we’re in the elevator on opposite sides and headed for the second floor with our rolling cart of luggage. The only conversation that passes between us is when Liz asks for our room number.

Her very indifference is enough to blow the lid on my simmering temper. By the time we actually reach the room I’m fuming with irritation. I don’t know what infuriates me more, the fact that she still won’t talk to me about her past or the fact that she seems annoyed because I expect her to. So much for patience and long-suffering! What’s the point of trying if she’s not willing to cooperate herself? She’s still putting me off the same as she always has only now I really don’t have the fortitude to deal with her stoicism. I’m not asking for much here…just a friggin bone, some encouragement to let me know we’re moving in the right direction. Liz is evidently not interested in that.

We’re in our suite alone together perhaps a whole ten seconds before I announce, “I’m going downstairs to look around. Don’t expect me back anytime soon. I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain yourself.” I half hope she’ll stop me, but when she just stands in the middle of the room with that damned blank expression on her face I stomp out and slam the door with enough force to shake the frame. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that she fully didn’t expect me to leave her there. The look of surprise on her face right before I yanked the door closed was priceless.

However, by the time I reach the main floor and head off towards the bar I can feel most of my satisfaction giving way to sadness and remorse. Already I recognize that my reaction hasn’t been entirely fair. I want Liz to feel free to talk to me yet when she doesn’t I react like a petulant toddler. I have to remind myself that patience is not supposed to have a limit. I have to keep extending it, over and over until Liz feels likes she’s ready to trust me with the things in her heart. I doubt my reaction to her refusal to discuss her past with David goes a long way in convincing her that she can.

Now I feel like an ass for reacting so rashly, but my pride won’t let me go back to the room and apologize. Even if my reaction was uncalled for Liz can’t be completely absolved in this either. She must see that I’m trying so why can’t she only meet me halfway? Why can’t she try just as hard? I feel as if I’m expected to put forth all the effort while she’s sitting back deciding whether or not to do the same herself. That’s not fair at all.

So instead of going back to my room as part of me wants to do I slide onto a stool at the bar and order a Coke. The bartender gives me an odd look but accommodates my request. I can sense his mild disgust with me and I’m almost tempted to ask him to add a little Jack to the Coke, as much for machismo as my own wounded ego, but I don’t. The situation with Liz is bad enough without me having to return to our room drunk off my ass. And so I ignore the bartender’s disdainful grunt, quietly nurse my Coke and brood over the things I can’t change.

The thing with Liz is that I wish I didn’t have to try so hard. I long for that intrinsic trust that used to exist between us when we were kids. Back then Liz knew she could tell me anything and it would be fine. Back then we knew each other’s souls. I wish for those days now, for the time when I could look into her eyes and know her heart.

Zan and Claudia have it, an effortless communication between them that is as vital as breathing. They’re almost like one entity sometimes…one heart. It feels ridiculous to be jealous of the relationship between two teenagers but that’s exactly how I feel. I am jealous…and envious, too.

That’s when it hits me how utterly moronic I’m being. I want to have a relationship like Zan and Claudia’s. I want to be close to Liz again yet instead of being with her at this second enjoying the dream vacation she’s planned for us I’m haunting the bar and enduring the scornful, derisive stares of a bartender who could care less. I know that Zan would have never left Claudia the way I left Liz just because she would talk to him. He would have hovered silently until she was ready and he would have done it all humbly and without the slightest bit of resentment. I could learn something from him…my teenage son.

With a disgusted sigh I throw a couple of bucks down onto the counter, push myself away from the stool and make my way back upstairs with my proverbial tail tucked between my legs. As I ease back into our hotel room, I half hope to find Liz already asleep in the king size bed, but instead she’s perched in a chair near the window. She’s shed her traveling clothes in exchange for light, satiny pajamas the color of tarnished gold. Her knees are drawn up close to her chest and I can see her bare toes peeking over the edge of the chair. I can also see her shattered expression, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

“You’ve been gone a while,” she comments as I carefully close the door behind me.

“A while?” I parrot guiltily. Time has crawled by since I left her. “How long is a while?”

“Almost three hours,” she whispers, without turning to look at me, “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“Of course I was coming back,” I tell her, but my words lack conviction. I can’t deny that the thought has occurred to me once or twice since I left her, but only because I’m afraid that this week will signal the demise of my marriage rather than the healing of it.

I want to be near Liz, more than anything. But more than that I fear being driven further apart. Even now I want to stoop down and touch her, just brush my fingers across her arm but I don’t. I don’t know how my touch will be received and I’m terrified of the possible rejection. Instead I plop down onto the bed and survey her morose expression from across the room. “I…I suppose I owe you an apology…” I begin regretfully.

Her lips twist into a wry smile. “That’s funny,” she murmurs, “because I was thinking I owed you one, too.”

“Let’s call it even,” I tell her and she smiles. There’s a beat of silence between us as I try and formulate a more proper apology. “Liz…about you and David--,”

“We met in a coffee shop about a block away from my school,” Liz interrupts quietly, “I would run there whenever I was tempted to accept one of your phone calls or, God forbid, call you instead.”

I compress my lips in a thin, pensive line. “So all those times when I called and they said you weren’t there…”

“…weren’t entirely untrue,” she finishes ironically, “Sometimes I just had to get away and clear my head. For the most part I had convinced myself that I didn’t love you anymore…that there was nothing else between us, but my heart… I couldn’t accept that in my heart. So I ran.”

“Just like that summer after we learned my destiny,” I interject softly.

“Just like that,” she agrees. She’s still not looking at me at this point, but staring unhappily out the window at the thick flakes of snow that’s begun drifting into the atmosphere. “I would sit there and sip cappuccino for hours just thinking about you…trying to sort out my life,” she recounts with a faint smile, “And one day David approached me with some outlandish story about how he’d made a bet with his buddies that he could get me to go out on a date with him and he wanted me to play along just so he could get the money.”

I don’t miss the nostalgia in her tone and I have to admit that it stings a little. “You sound like you were intrigued with him from the start,” I observe gruffly.

She shrugs. “I guess I was. He was like the anti-Max. That was part of his appeal for me.”

“The anti-Max?” I question with a mild frown.

Finally, her dark gaze pins me, fervent and electric. “He was everything you weren’t,” she explains with an air of desperation, “He was outgoing and bold and irreverent. The weight of the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. David just wanted to have fun. No dark-haired mystery man from an exotic place…just a rich, blond, preppy boy with stunning good looks.”

“And you liked that?” I ask hoarsely.

“I needed that,” she clarifies discordantly, “There was no baggage with David. I didn’t need to be strong or brave with him. I could just be a teenage girl with him and that was okay.”

“I never expected those things from you, Liz,” I whisper.

“Yes, you did,” she counters sadly, “You were an alien king, Max. How could you not?”

“And David didn’t expect anything from you?”

She levels me with an ironic smile. “I was just a pleasant distraction for him as he was for me,” she says, “At first we would just hang out and drink cappuccinos, maybe even split a muffin. David was always full of these outlandish stories and he had a gift for making me laugh. He insisted on calling me Elizabeth because he said it was a woman’s name. I felt different when I was with him, like I was someone else. I liked it.”

“You didn’t want to be yourself?” I query regretfully.

“Being Liz Parker was hard,” she tells me, “And so damned painful. When I was Elizabeth it was easier. I almost felt happy.”

“And so what happened?”

“David and I began seeing one another casually. We had been dating off and on for about a month when he invited me to a fraternity party.” Another dramatic pause passes between us. “That was the night I got pregnant with Claudia,” she declares softly, “When I told David later he asked me to marry him right away, as if that was what he had wanted all along.”

I look away then. It hurts to look at her, hurts to hear her say the words even though I’ve reconciled myself with the fact long ago. “Were…were you in love with him then?”

“I thought I was,” she whispered, “He made me laugh. He made me NOT think about you. Back then that was the most I could hope for.”

“So then what went wrong?” I ask speculatively.

“Come here,” she invites me softly. Slowly she uncurls her body from the chair and lifts her hand to beckon me forward. “Come here, Max…see for yourself.”

I drift nearer to her as if being pulled along by an invisible string and sink down to my knees. When I do she takes hold of my shaking hands and deliberately places each one on either side of her head. I understand what she is trying to do only at the last moment when she stares deep into my eyes. This isn’t like those times between us when we’re making love and the connection springs up involuntarily. She’s giving herself over to me now, opening up completely, humbling herself… I’m humbled in return by the magnitude of her trusting offer and am near tears when I establish the first tendrils of our connection.

It begins as it always does with jagged splices of our life together. But then the pictures change as I delve deeper into the hidden parts of Liz’s soul. I can see her time with McKee, can feel her happiness and contentment in the first years of their marriage. I know the exact moment when that happiness and contentment began to wane. I also now know my part in it all.

When we finally break apart tears are streaking both our faces. I feel like I’ve been born again, like I’m seeing Liz through new eyes. The emotion makes me tremble. Reaching forward, I brush away the clinging droplets staining her cheeks, feeling at peace and in anguish all at once. “So you did love him,” I whisper almost inaudibly. It’s not an accusation but rather a painful observation.

“Not the way I loved you,” she tells me.

I wince. It’s the exact same response I gave to her all those years ago when she asked me if I loved Tess. I never realized until this very second how very trite the reply must have sounded to her and how gut wrenching it must have been to hear it.

“If I had never sent you that letter…” I mumble guiltily, “Perhaps your marriage wouldn’t have failed. No wonder you blamed me…no wonder you hated me so much.”

My letter had started a chain reaction of lies and deceit that had gradually driven Liz and McKee apart. If she hadn’t been forced to lied to him just to protect my secret… But then the action speaks volumes about Liz and her feelings for me. Even though she had been in a happy, committed relationship she had chosen to jeopardize that security just to protect me, a man she claimed to hate. Even after Tess and the horrific way I’d treated her after Alex’s death she still chose me…she still loved me.

I look at her now and I can tell from the expression on her face that she’s aware of my every thought. Her next words confirm that. “Max,” she begins gently, “All you did when you wrote to me was expose the weaknesses in my marriage that were already there. You have nothing to feel guilty about. I can say that things might have worked out between David and me had you not sent it but I know that’s not true. It’s kind of like you saying that your choices would have been different had you known the truth about Future Max.”

“They would have bee--,”

“Shh,” she admonishes, pressing her fingers to my lips, “Knowing the truth wouldn’t have changed anything in the long run, Max. You always wanted to trust Tess despite all the horrible things she did, despite the blatant way she manipulated you. You wouldn’t have turned her away even if you had known about Future Max.”

“I didn’t love her, Liz,” I protest weakly, “Never. But she was…she was one of my own. I couldn’t turn her away.”

“I know that and so did she,” Liz interjects gently, “Your loyalty blinded you to the danger she posed. I could have warned you about her a thousand times but ultimately you wouldn’t have listened because Tess would have had to betray you in the ultimate way for you to cut her off. She would have eventually come between us, Max…one way or another.”

I can do little more than gulp because I know, on some level, that what she says is true. "And what about you and David?” I prompt hesitantly, “Was that inevitable, too?”

She emits a sad little laugh. “I had been lying to him from the very start…about my past and myself. Hell, I even lied to him about his own daughter. We were doomed from the start, Max, and I knew it. I only wanted to pretend for a little while.”

“So why did you not want to tell me this?” I wonder, “Why did you get so angry when I asked about it?”

“Because I felt like a hypocrite.” At my confused frown she rushes to add, “Not because I married David but because I wondered how I could go on condemning you for what happened with Tess when I did the exact same thing,” she confesses miserably, “I used David just the exact same way you used Tess.”

I shift up into the chair with her, maneuvering so that she is cradled in my lap. She conforms to me willingly, eagerly. Her legs hang over the armrest and she buries her face into my neck. “It wasn’t the same thing,” I whisper against her temple, “I never harbored any illusions about being in love with Tess. That night with her…it was all about my bruised ego. It was just like you said…I used her. But you thought you were in love with David. I felt that, Liz. Maybe…maybe you could have fallen in love with him completely if you hadn’t had to lie…” The thought kills but simultaneously I feel like hell for inadvertently depriving her of her chance at happiness.

Liz lifts her head then and cups my cheek. “It worked out the way it was supposed to,” she whispers.

“You don’t have any regrets,” I ask in near disbelief.

“Not a one,” she says, “I’m glad you know the truth now. I don’t want to keep anything from you ever again, Max.”

“I don’t want that either,” I say in return, “I don’t ever want you to be afraid to talk to me, Liz. I don’t want us to dwell on the past any more. That doesn’t matter now. I only want to love you…that’s all I want.”

“It is?” she asks, as if she can hardly believe it.

I smile at her, kiss her forehead before dragging my lips down the curve of her jaw in search of her lips. “All of my life.”

TBC

Chapter 17

Zan

“That’s too much sugar, you moron!” Maria screeches, “Don’t you know anything about babies?”

I know I should turn back right then but the rumble in my stomach prevents me. That and the knowledge that Claudia has sent me forth on a foraging mission and if I return without food the results will not be pretty. Still the idea of being caught in the middle of yet another Michael/Maria tussle doesn’t seem any prettier, particularly one that has gotten so heated over something as simple as what to feed Justin for breakfast.

“He eats his oatmeal like this all the time!” Michael bellows in reply. I haven’t rounded the corner fully yet but I can picture him in my mind, rudely shouldering Maria aside so that he can claim the space before Justin’s high chair. “God,” I hear Michael mumble, “You’re here for three friggin days and you think you know everything!”

“I think I know a little more about babies than you do, Spaceboy.”

“But you don’t know about Justin,” Michael counters smugly. I wince at the barb and I imagine Maria does as well. “My guy knows what he likes. Don’tcha lil man?”

I glance around the corner just in time to glimpse Maria snatch the spoon from Mike’s fingers. “You’ll rot his teeth before he even has a mouthful!”

“Like I said, what do you know about it?” Uncle Mike demands belligerently, “You’re hardly ever here, DeLuca. I think I know what the kid likes okay!”

“What kid doesn’t like sugar?” Maria mutters crossly, “No wonder he’s so hyperactive. I had to literally peel him off the walls yesterday afternoon. Give me that spoon before you do anymore damage!”

Okay, braving Claudia’s wrath is definitely preferable to the mini drama unfolding in the kitchen. Besides watching them this way seems almost voyeuristic. Fighting for Michael and Maria is like foreplay. But as I start to turn around and head back to my bedroom Maria voice sounds behind me.

“Zan, is that you?”

I’m busted. With a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders I reluctantly turn back towards the kitchen. “Hey, what’s up?” I grunt in greeting as I enter, acutely aware of my shirtless state and bare feet. Uncle Mike hops up from the chair he’s situated alongside Justin’s high chair and slaps me solidly on the back.

“Hey, Alexander…so you’re going to be a dad…” he opens broadly, “I wanted to say something to you the other day when I found out but…well, you know what happened. I gotta say I never expected to hear something like that, especially about you.”

“Are you gonna lecture me now?” I ask grimly.

“Hell, no!” Mike guffaws, “You’ll be twenty in seven months. I don’t make a habit of telling grown men what to do. And besides…I don’t do lectures. I’ll leave those to your old man.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, uncertain whether his magnanimous reaction is a good thing.

“Actually I’m more concerned with how you plan to raise a kid and support a wife with no job,” he follows up promptly. Nope…it’s not a good thing.

“Geez, Uncle Mike,” I groan, heading over to the cupboards for the cereal, “It’s barely eight o’clock in the morning… Just cried most of the night. Can we please shelve the heavy conversation for later?”

“You probably should get used to the sound of a crying baby seeing as you’ll have one of your own soon,” Maria interjects glibly as she spoons oatmeal into Justin’s eager mouth. I shoot her a withering look but she is without remorse. “Hey…it’s the truth.”

“I’ll give you a job down at the shop,” Michael offers generously, “You’re gonna need one from what your dad’s been telling me.”

“Every teenage boy’s fantasy,” Maria mutters sardonically, just loud enough for me to hear, “to be a greasy mechanic. I thought Max and Liz already decided that was out of the question.”

I’m a little pissed that they’ve been discussing my situation behind my back but I suppose it’s expected. Still, I don’t like the idea of everyone sitting around trying to decide my life. It’s becoming alarmingly apparent that Claudia and I aren’t going to have a shred of independence as long as we stay with our parents. We are in dire need of a plan B. I won’t stand blithely aside and allow Liz and Dad to plot out our lives. As Uncle Mike so bluntly pointed out I am near twenty years old and Cee’s not far behind me.

Presently, I ignore Maria’s comment and press on stubbornly. “I’d like to finish school, Mike,” I tell my uncle, “But thanks for the offer man. Claudia and I are still trying to work some things out.”

“I thought you two were going to stay here until after the baby was born?” Maria asks in surprise.

“That’s what Liz and Dad want,” I concede evenly, “But that isn’t necessarily what Claudia and I want.”

Maria purses her lips in a thoughtful, yet disapproving line. “Are Max and Liz aware of this tidbit of information?”

“They probably would be if they took the time to ask.”

Michael, Maria and I swivel around in surprise when Claudia’s sardonic reply sounds from the doorway. She wrapped in my bathrobe, her hair swept back from her face in one of those girly clips and, quite frankly, she looks like death. One look at the greenish cast of her skin and I know her morning sickness has reasserted itself with a vengeance. In contrast with her bold, belligerent declaration she sways against the frame, looking alarmingly near to passing out. I make it to her just as she collapses forward.

“You should have stayed in bed,” I admonish as I ease her over to a nearby chair. Michael and Maria are hovering now as well but I hardly acknowledge them. My attention is suddenly riveted on the green energy crackling over Claudia’s fingertips. I kneel before her, grasping her firmly by the wrists. “How long has this been happening?”

“It was like this when I woke up,” she whispers.

I chafe her hands briskly, rubbing them over and over until the electrical currents finally subside and her body is relieved of its palsied shaking. “Are you in pain?” I ask worriedly.

“Not anymore,” she says tiredly, “For a second I hurt all over just like last time. I thought I might pass out but then everything was fine.” She lowers her eyes almost shamefully. “After it was over I threw up. I tried to clean it but…I can’t control the powers…”

“I’ll take care of it later,” I reply dismissively.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I murmur, gathering her close into my arms because she looks like she might start crying, “Why didn’t you call me, baby?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she mumbles into my neck.

“I’ll call Liz,” Maria volunteers suddenly and Claudia jerks her head up just as she’s marching for the phone.

“No!” she cries before Maria can touch the receiver. Maria levels her with a startled, puzzled stare. “Please don’t do that. I…I don’t want to ruin her vacation.”

“Claude, she’ll want to know about this,” Maria insists, “I promised her I would call if there were any new developments.”

“This isn’t a new development,” Claudia disputes obstinately, “Besides I’m fine now. Why do you want to worry her about something that has passed?”

“And what about the baby?” Maria persists.

“She’s fine,” both Cee and I answer simultaneously. It’s not something we checked for specifically but rather a gut instinct. Our little Cassidy is thriving.

“I still don’t know…” Maria says, continuing to linger near the phone.

“Don’t call her,” Claudia orders crisply, “It’s my decision to make.”

“Then it’s settled…we won’t call her,” I declare, not wanting Claudia to be upset any further, “Why don’t you go back to bed, okay? I’ll bring you breakfast.” I stroke back strands of hair from her pale face. “You look tired.”

Claudia offers me a weary smile. “I am tired,” she confesses in a whisper, “But I’m not leaving you here alone so that Michael and Maria can gang up on you.”

“We weren’t ganging up on him, Claude,” Maria protests with an ironic laugh as she resumes her perch before Justin so that she can finish feeding him, “Michael and I were just giving him something to think about. Both of you seem to be flitting through this whole thing like you’re in some sort of fairy tale. Babies take work. You both should be prepared.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her what she could possibly know about it, but I don’t. Mouthing off would only succeed in making an already touchy situation volatile. But my temper is pushed yet another notch when Michael comments to Claudia, “You know…Zan never used to do stuff like this until you came along.”

I go stiff all over but Claudia is the one who responds to him. “Stuff like what?” demands defensively.

“Stuff like running away, lying to his dad….having unprotected sex,” Michael checks off succinctly, “He’s like a completely different person now.”

I just have to respond to that. Spinning to my feet I’m within inches of Michael’s face when I retort, “Okay…first of all, I ran away because Dad was lying to me! That had nothing to do with Claudia and everything to do with his cover-up of what really happened with Tess. Secondly, any lying I’ve done to him has directly involved my personal business and it’s my prerogative to keep those things to myself and that includes my sex life, protected or otherwise!”

“Calm down,” Michael advises, visibly unaffected by my ire, “You wouldn’t be getting so upset right now if you didn’t realize that at least some of what I’m saying is true.”

I sense Claudia come to stand behind me, sense the sorrow radiating from her body. Instinctively, I know she’s berating herself for all the things Michael has said and left unsaid. He’s feeding into her fears and insecurities and I almost hate him for it. “You think I’m a bad influence?” she whispers in question to Michael, “You think I’m ruining Zan’s life?”

“I guess I’m just still trying to figure you out,” Michael reveals baldly, “You’ve brought more chaos into this boy’s life in two years than his alien status did his whole life. You exposed his secret, broke his heart and put his life in danger all in less than a year.” I open my mouth to put a stop to his monologue right then but before I can blast him he adds almost wryly, “But then you’ve also made him happier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s become a man with you…something that never would have happened if Max had his way. And I’ve seen the way you are with him…I know you love him just as much as he loves you…maybe more.”

“That’s impossible,” Claudia whispers, sliding her arms around my waist so that she can rest her cheek against the back of my shoulder. Her body aligns perfectly with mine, contouring in the most comforting fashion. “Nobody could love more than Zan does, but…thank you for saying so.” Both pleased and embarrassed by her words I pull her around me so that she’s nestled against my side and kiss her temple and, briefly, her lips.

“Besides, Zan,” Michael continues, watching us through assessing eyes, “I gave your father a hard enough time when he was dating Liz. It took me years to realize that he was better off with her than without her. I won’t make the same mistake with you.”

One thing I can say about Michael Guerin is that he is certainly a surprising character. I’ve gone from wanting to deck him to wanting to hug him in five seconds flat. The emotion filling my chest now makes me feel self-conscious…humbled. I’m almost relieved when the doorbell rings because I suddenly feel the unmanly urge to cry.

“Good God,” Maria utters with a frown, “Who could that be at this hour?”

“Jehovah’s Witnesses?” Claudia ventures humorously. However, our laughter dies away when the doorbell sounds again and we realize that Claudia’s guess could be a distinct possibility.

“Well, isn’t someone gonna get it?” Maria demands. We all hem and haw. Personally, I’m in no more a mood for an in depth discussion of God’s coming kingdom than I was for advice on my future and personal life. Three pairs of eyes round on Maria expectantly. “Fine,” she concedes, throwing up her hands in exasperation, “I’ll get it. I like to read the magazines anyway.”

“Careful,” Michael warns laughingly at her back, “You’ll get a Bible study that way.” She responds by sticking out her tongue at him and a strict admonishment to Claudia to finish feeding our brother and to keep Michael away while doing so before disappearing from the kitchen. “She’s got a point though,” Michael comments when Maria’s gone, “Those magazines of theirs aren’t half bad.”

“Then why didn’t you go?” I ask him vaguely, watching Claudia spoon cold oatmeal into Justin’s mouth. She’s such a natural about it, hardly having to coax Justin at all. I know she’ll be the same with our daughter and it makes me smile.

“Hey, I said I liked reading the magazines,” Michael cracks, “I didn’t say I wanted to talk about them.”

Maria reappears a few minutes later with an odd expression on her face. Michael snickers. “I knew it. You invited them in, didn’t you?”

But Maria doesn’t smile. Her eyes are zeroed in on Claudia, who has now glanced up from her task of feeding Justin. Whatever she sees in Maria’s gaze causes the color to slowly drain from Claudia’s face. “Who’s at the door?” I ask her carefully.

“It’s David,” she whispers ominously, “He wants to see Claudia.”

TBC

Chapter 18

Liz

I wake to a tickling sensation beneath my nose. Still teetering on the edges of sleep I brush away the offending flutter only to feel it glance my cheek instead. With a muttered groan of displeasure I finally pry open my eyes. My beginning grumble dies on my lips. Max is looming above me, a single rose in hand, his eyes sparkling devilishly. “What are you doing?” I ask him groggily, but I’m smiling as I do.

“It’s time to rise and shine, my valentine,” he tells me sweetly right before leaning down for a lingering kiss.

“You’re certainly in a good mood,” I observe sleepily when he pulls back.

He only grins broader, waits for me to drag myself up against the pillows and stuff the blankets around my naked form before extending the rose to me. “For you, madam,” he says with melodramatic flourish. It takes a while for me to garner the wherewithal to look from his face to his gift. He’s utterly breathtaking right now, his quiet happiness contagious.

But the excitement burning in his gold green eyes finally prompts me to glance downward and I gasp. The rose is breathtaking, a hybrid…with soft, vivid pink petals intertwined with creamy white. It serves as a fitting metaphor for my husband. Achingly beautiful and yet stunningly rare. I favor him with a shining smile as I’m flooded with the same awe I felt that day when he healed the hole in my stomach. I knew that day that Max Evans would change my life forever. And he has.

Smiling shyly, I inhale the rose’s sweet scent. “Now just how did you manage to get a rose in the middle of winter, I wonder?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” he teases in a playful tone that lets me know that his alien gifts were involved.

“Cheater,” I admonish him, smiling, “If you bring me roses in the dead of winter then what am I supposed to give to you? I can’t compete with that.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Max says, leaning forward to drop a kiss on the tip of my nose, “Let me spoil you. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”

“Hmm,” I consider, “I think I’d like to be spoiled.”

“Good. I can start by ordering us both brunch in bed.” He reaches for the phone, giving me a questioning look as he dials room service. “What would you like?”

I’m still half asleep and quite giddy by his avid attention so his question doesn’t completely register at first. “Oh, anything you want,” I say dismissively as I place the rose on the nightstand only to bolt upright five seconds later, the bed covers falling heedlessly into my lap. “Wait! Did you just say brunch?” I ask with a frown, “I mean…what happened to breakfast?”

Max has a chuckle over what must be the most comical of expressions on my face and hangs up the phone. “Liz,” he replies with an impish smirk, “It’s half past one, sweetheart. Breakfast has been over for a while now. You’ll be lucky to get brunch if you don’t hurry.”

My mouth falls open. “You’re kidding?” His grin widens as he shakes his head. “I slept past noon?” I demand dubiously. Again he nods. “Oh my God! Why did you let me sleep so long?”

“I was enjoying the view,” he returns sweetly.

For the second time in a five-minute span I melt. My mortification gives way to a sugary grin. “Oh, Max,” I sigh, reaching forward to cup his cheek, “that is so sweet.”

“Yeah, the snow’s really gorgeous this morning,” he replies with a hitching glance over his shoulder, expression scrupulously straight.

When I smack him in the arm he only laughs. “You’re so not funny!” He laughs again, rich, deep and rumbling and pulls me into his arms. But as I dissolve into his embrace his laughter dies away and he looks down at me with the most indescribable expression on his face. I feel my own laughter fade a bit in the face of his dawning solemnity.

“So…how do you feel?” he asks carefully.

Purposely, I mistake his meaning, perhaps because I’m not quite ready for the serious conversation that looms. “How do you think I feel,” I counter playfully, wrapping my arms about his neck and pulling him down against me for a kiss. Max complies but his seriousness doesn’t alter one iota. “Are you sure you want to do this now?” I query with a hint of exasperation, “We haven’t even eaten yet.”

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Okay,” I sigh expansively, “Will you pass me my nightgown, please? I feel strange having deep conversation when I’m buck naked.” He’s smirking when he bends to retrieve my nightie though he does his best to maintain his businesslike expression. After I slip my nightgown down over my head I ask him lightly, “So what do you think needs further clarification?”

Max’s features suddenly become shuttered and he lowers his gaze. “I was only wondering if you had told me everything…that is, everything about you and McKee. You…You didn’t leave anything out, did you?”

I frown at him. “Yes. I told you everything, Max.”

“It’s not that I doubt you,” he rushes quickly, still not meeting my gaze, “I just don’t know if you’d keep some things to yourself maybe to…to spare my feelings.”

“Things like what?” I prod cautiously.

There is an agonizing pause of silence before he finally answers. “Things like…whether or not you still have feelings for him,” he reveals in a miserable whisper.

I’m so aghast by the notion that I can’t stifle the snort of laughter that escapes my lips. “What?”

Max appears supremely pained by my reaction. “It’s not funny, Liz,” he scolds, “I seriously need to know.”

“You are seriously out of your mind,” I tell him.

“I can’t stop wondering what would have happened if I had never sent you that letter,” he says plaintively, “And we rushed into our own marriage so fast that I--,”

“Max, I told you what would have happened,” I reiterate, “David and I would have split apart eventually, probably not as soon as we did, but it would have happened.”

“How can you be so sure?” Max argues stubbornly, “You were starting to love him, Liz. Don’t deny it.” His insecurities don’t irritate me at all rather I’m unaccountably touched by his boyish uncertainty. And, of course, I understand the reason for his doubt as well. He’s right when he said we rushed into our marriage. It’s true that we’re still working out the kinks, but none of those little road bumps have anything to do with residual feelings for David.

“Max, we’ve been through this,” I reply patiently, lifting my hands to cradle his face, “My marriage to David was based on a lie. It would have never survived. Look what happened to us when I chose to lie to you. Our entire relationship fell apart.”

“But that was different. You were trying to save my life.”

“And maybe things would have been different if I had just told you that.”

Max favors me with a lopsided smile. “Aren’t you the one who told me that my actions would have been the same whether I had the truth or not,” he reminds me laughingly, “You were right when you said I was weak back then. I was never discerning when it came to Tess. I let her manipulate me again and again. Knowing the truth about Future Max would have probably only exacerbated the tendency.”

“Exactly,” I murmur softly, satisfied that I had made my point. “Nothing you did or didn’t do could have saved my marriage just like nothing I did or didn’t do could have prevented you from trusting Tess. We both did what we thought was best at the time.”

“Trusting Tess,” he grumbles self-deprecatingly, “That was the worst decision I ever made. When I think about the hell she caused…” I silently finish out his sentence. To Alex. To us. To her own son.

“The consequences weren’t completely bad,” I tell him, “You have Zan now, Max and he’s…he’s extraordinary. You should be proud of the job you’ve done with him.” He looks up at me with an amazed expression. Truthfully, I’m surprised myself. I don’t know when I stopped thinking of Zan as being the biggest calamity that ever happened to Max and me. Now I consider him to be one of our greatest blessings.

“You say that even though he’s impregnated your teenage daughter?”

“He didn’t do it alone,” I reply with a smile, “And besides I know he’s a good kid despite all that. I know he’ll take good care of Claudia and the baby.”

“My God…you really mean that,” he croaks in wonder.

“Stop looking at me as if I’ve sprouted horns,” I admonish him laughingly.

“I…I can’t help it,” he stammers disjointedly, “I guess I can’t believe how far we’ve come…”

“I love him, too, Max,” I whisper thickly, “And not just because he’s your son or because Claudia is in love with him but because…he’s a part of me now, too. I feel privileged to know him.” I emit an ironic snort of laughter. “I suppose Tess would spontaneously combust on the spot if she were here right now. She probably hoped Zan and I would hate one another on sight…or at least resent each other.”

“I doubt Tess would have care one way or the other,” Max dismisses in disgust.

The trembling anger I hear in his tone sends a tiny shiver down my spine. Even after eighteen years Max’s hatred for Tess Harding is still palpable. I lay a tentative hand against his forearm. “Max,” I begin hesitantly, “I know you said that…that Tess didn’t love Zan at all, but… I just can’t imagine that. I mean, if I could grow to love him I don’t understand how Tess couldn’t. He was her flesh and blood.”

Max sighs again. “I’m not saying that she didn’t love him,” he reasons tiredly, “But I do know that she didn’t want to love him. I think she forced herself to keep her distance because it was the only way she could fulfill her deal with Khivar.”

“So was she just…distant then?” I ask him. I’m rather astounded to realize that I’m burning with questions about that time in his life now. Two years ago I would have said that I couldn’t care less, but now I need to know. I need to know what drove Max to the lengths he went to. I need to know what shattered his innocence for good. “What happened with Tess back then, Max?”

He heaves another long, deep sigh and settles down at the foot of the bed, propping himself up onto his elbow so that he can see me. I can tell by his manner that he’s not eager to talk about it, but he’s not going to shut me out. With all the communication problems we’ve been having lately I don’t suppose I expected anything less.

“She came back a month after senior year began that summer you left,” he recounts dully, “When she first arrived I didn’t want anything to do with her…not with her or the baby. I pretty much acted like they didn’t exist. But she made a nuisance of herself. She kept pushing, kept dropping hints to my parents. I knew I would have to tell them something.” He grunts in remembrance. “I actually considered killing her then…God knows I wanted to, but she said that she and the baby were linked…that if I killed her I would kill Zan, too.”

“And you believed her?” There is no accusation in my question, only sorrow.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Max says, dragging his hand down the length of his face, “I didn’t want the baby but I didn’t want to be responsible for his death either. And even if it weren’t true I couldn’t leave him without his mother, especially when I knew I couldn’t be any kind of parent.”

“Why…Why didn’t you want to be around him? I thought that the plan was to get him back in the first place.”

“After you left I just stopped caring,” he tells me, “Nothing mattered to me anymore…not even my son. I wanted to forget that I ever knew Tess Harding but she wouldn’t let me. She was there, in my face, constantly reminding me of all the reasons I hated myself. Eventually I had to tell my parents the truth.”

“Then what?”

“They freaked out as expected,” he declares dryly, “But once they got over their shock they were all over me to do the ‘right thing’ by Tess and the baby, whatever the hell that was. Of course I set them straight on Tess and her part in Alex’s death, but they were still adamant about Zan.” He chuckles to himself. “I guess it didn’t matter too much in the long run because after I held him that first time I fell totally in love. It was the first time I had felt anything in months.”

“I really tore you apart when I left you, didn’t I?” I deduce regretfully.

“I would have died without Zan, Liz,” Max whispers, “He gave me a reason to keep going. Without him…I had nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he utters tenderly, “It’s all in the past. I suppose things worked out as they should have. I don’t think you’re sorry for the last twenty years, are you?”

I shake my head slowly. “I would have never had Claudia otherwise.”

“And it all worked out in the end,” Max says, “We’re married now. Granted things aren’t perfect but we’re muddling through. And, in a few months time, we’ll both be grandparents for the first time.”

Wilting back against the pillows, I half groan, half whimper. “Oh my God, Max!” I announce dubiously, “It just hit me! We are actually going to be grandparents! God! What were they thinking?”

“I don’t think they were,” Max comments ironically, “At least, not with anything above their necks.”

“Ha, ha,” I return, shooting him a death glare, “I’m much too young to be a grandmother. I only just had a baby myself a year ago.”

“Do you ever wonder about that?” Max asks, twisting around onto his back and fixing his thoughtful gaze on the ceiling above.

“Do I ever wonder about what?”

“Zan and Claudia,” he muses, “Why they fell in love…how they fell in love…the way they met. It’s almost like they were destined to be.” He turns his head and pins me with an electric stare. “Like us.”

I climb from beneath the covers and stretch out beside him, snuggling close. “You still think that about us?” I ask in soft amazement, “Even after all the crap that’s gone down between us?”

He gently brushes wisps of hair back from my forehead, looking at me as he always has, as if I’m his most prized possession. “What do you think?” he asks me.

I nuzzle against his chin. “I think we’ve had enough serious talk for the morning.” My stomach chooses that moment to gurgle noisily. Max grunts with laughter as I add on smartly, “And apparently my stomach agrees.”

“It’s too late for brunch,” he says after a quick glance at the digital clock beside our bed.

“So what? We’ll eat a sandwich and then…maybe we can play in the snow.”

He’s on the phone so quick dialing room service that I can’t suppress my trill of laughter.

TBC

Chapter 19

Claudia

They’ve formed a hostile semi-circle around him. Only seconds after Maria’s announcement Zan and Michael went skidding for the living room with Maria and I close behind. There’s been taut silence ever since and, though neither Michael nor Zan threatened my father outright; the hateful glares they shoot in his direction speak volumes. Even Maria, with Justin bouncing heavily on her hip, looks ready to pounce. However, I do my best to plod on and pretend that we do not have an audience.

“Daddy? Can I get you a cup of coffee or…or something?” I don’t expect him to say yes, not with three pairs of eyes trained sharply on his face, but still I need to make the offer. In an odd way it alleviates my nervousness a bit. Just that small portion of normalcy gives me a sense of control. But only a tiny bit. The rest of me is riotous with emotion and fear. I’m acutely aware of the fact that Dad has yet to remove his jacket and that his fists are bunched and pressed hard against his thighs. I know it’s very probable that he’ll get up to leave any moment now and really that’s the last thing I could want. My fingers practically itch to grab hold of him to prevent that from happening.

He casts an uneasy glance from my face to the unwelcoming faces surrounding him before connecting with my stare once more. “Claudia, do you think we could possibly in private?” he asks in a doleful whisper.

Before I can even think of a response Zan, Maria and Michael have simultaneously answered with a resounding, “No.” They receive death glares from Dad for their efforts, which they unabashedly return, and an eye roll from me. However, when he looks at me again his gaze is pleading. “I need for us to talk,” he insists gently, “There are…there are a lot of things I need to say to you and I can’t do that with them here, Claude.”

As I nod my consent I can feel Zan, who is perched on the sofa armrest, go stiff beside me. “You’re not serious?” he explodes softly, “You can’t talk to him alone, Cee! Remember what happened last time? It’s not a good idea.”

Reassuringly, I pat his knee. “Zan, I’ll be fine,” I whisper to him, “Dad’s right. We can’t possibly talk with you here.”

“No,” Zan replies stubbornly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

His overprotective reaction is both endearing and irritating. “Zan, I understand you’re trying to protect me,” I tell him patiently, careful to mask my emerging annoyance, “But I need to do this by myself.”

“It’s not a good idea,” he says.

“Did you hear what she said? She’s made her decision,” Dad cuts in belligerently, “Will you stop trying to control her?”

“Stay the hell out of this!” Zan snaps back angrily, “And you’re the one trying to control her, not me!” Placed in the middle, I can feel the anger rolling off them in heated waves. Another few seconds and I know fists will be flying and there won’t be a damned thing I can do to stop it.

Anxious to diffuse the situation before it explodes completely I place a restraining hand against Zan’s thigh while I address my father. “Dad, please!” I admonish him sharply, “Let me handle this.” I turn back to Zan, cringing inwardly when I see how dark and thunderous his expression has become. “Zan, please trust me,” I implore, “I know what I’m doing, okay.”

Instead of answering Zan plucks me by the elbow and drags me up from the couch and across the living room. My father’s grunting response of fury follows us. I can feel his disapproving glare burning into my back the entire time.

“I don’t think you should talk to him alone, Cee,” Zan advises when we’re out of earshot, “There’s no telling what nonsense he’ll try and fill your head with.”

“You talk like you think he’s going to brainwash me or something,” I reply, offhand. But one look at Zan’s deadly serious expression and I realize my joke isn’t such a joke to him. “Zan, come on.”

“He hates us, baby,” Zan insists, “You don’t think he’ll try to do everything in his power to make you hate us, too.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I retort in exasperation, “I’m not some mindless twit, okay! My father isn’t going to turn me against you in a few minutes.”

“Don’t send us out.”

“Zan, stop being this way! He won’t say anything with the three of you standing there. If you stay a conversation will be completely pointless.” My reply is somewhat distracted because Michael has moved forward to say something to my dad. I imagine it’s a threat because Dad blanches totally white a few seconds later. I groan inwardly. “I need to get back over there and do damage control,” I mutter.

However, Zan holds me off. “God, Claudia, don’t you get it?” he whispers fiercely, “If your father has anything to say that can’t be said in front of us then it probably isn’t good. Maybe you don’t even need to hear it.”

“Or maybe he just wants the opportunity to talk to his pregnant teenaged daughter in private, just like he said,” I reply crisply, “Zan, please don’t overreact.” I don’t want to be angry with him, especially when I know his frantic attitude is spurred on by concern, but every moment our conversation evolves I feel pushed a notch closer to exploding.

“Overreact,” he bleats in a hiss, “Overreact? The last time you were alone with him, Claudia, you had some kind of meltdown. You might want to think about that before rushing into another heartfelt conversation.”

His sarcasm, though altogether rare, isn’t lost on me and I grind my teeth in answering frustration. “You’re pulling that white knight routine again,” I warn him gently, “I’m a big girl…I can handle this on my own, Zan.” When he still doesn’t seem the least bit reassured I add, “I promise to call you if things get too intense.”

Finally, he softens and some of the answering rigidity leaves my body. “You really promise?” I slip into his arms, melting a bit when they go around me without hesitation. “I really promise,” I whisper, “Please, trust me.”

“I trust you implicitly, Claudia,” he mutters against my temple, “It’s your dad I’m having issues with at the moment.”

I settle my palm into the small of his back, stroke the spot lightly with my fingers. “I love you, Zan,” I whisper into his chest, “You know that, right?”

He answers by gently lifting my face and framing it in his hands and then he kisses me softly for everyone to see. “I love you, too,” he murmurs deeply, “More than you know. Just be careful with him.”

“I will,” I vow in final promise.

“He’s very possessive of you,” Dad observes when they’ve all cleared out a few seconds later. The living room seems abnormally quiet with the absence of my family’s concerned grumbling. I feel somewhat bereft and with my Dad’s opening remark I just know that Zan’s warning will prove true. Our conversation will not be good.

“He cares about me,” I correct Dad defensively as I resume my seat.

“Is that what they’re calling it now when someone tries to control your every thought and deed?” he retorts mockingly.

“You are the one who tries to control my every thought and deed, Dad, not Zan,” I point out.

“As it should be,” Dad argues crisply, “I’m your parent, remember?”

“Only when it’s convenient for you,” I mumble in an underbreath.

Dad narrows his eyes in a censorious glare. “What did you just say?” he demands.

“Nothing,” I mutter, suddenly unwilling to argue with him. It’s not that I’m afraid to tell him the things that are on my mind; rather I’m afraid of letting myself feel all those things. I’m afraid that once I allow the emotion to brim over I won’t be able to staunch it. But I should know better than to expect Dad to simply let it go. We’re alike that way.

“You don’t think I’ve been a good parent to you?” he accuses, his tone aghast.

I fix him with a woeful stare, almost laughing at his dubious tone. “Dad, think about it,” I reply matter-of-factly, “You were absentee most of my life. I can name exactly two birthdays you actually attended. You were never around.”

“I had to work, Claudia.”

I almost laugh. His old standby. I don’t know why I expected something more original. “Story of your life, Dad,” I grumble in reply, “And mine.”

“Didn’t you have everything you needed?” he demands passionately, “Didn’t you have the best schools, the best clothes? Didn’t I always indulge your every whim? Hell, you would have had a car long before your eighteenth birthday if your mother had allowed it!”

“Yeah, I had everything--,”

“—Yes, you did--,”

“—Except you, Dad,” I finish quietly.

A hush falls over him then. He’s run all out of excuses and defenses now. I watch him as he slowly deflates. “Is that why you turned to that hoodlum back there?” he asks glumly, “Because I was never around?”

“First of all, Zan isn’t a ‘hoodlum.’ And second, I didn’t ‘turn’ to him at all. I fell in love with him, Dad.”

“You’re only eighteen,” he replies dismissively, “What could you possibly know about love, Claudia?”

“You thought you knew plenty at nineteen,” I remind him tartly, “Otherwise you would have never married Mom.”

“And we all know how wonderfully that turned out,” he returns, “Please don’t base your life decisions on the mistakes your mother and I made.”

“I’m not,” I tell him, reeling a bit over the fact that he regards his marriage to Mom as a mistake. I would have expected such an attitude from her, but never from him.

“Then what are you doing, Claude?” Dad demands softly, “You’ve barely started college. Your entire life is ahead of you and yet here you sit…pregnant.”

“We didn’t plan it this way,” I protest weakly, “If it makes you feel better I’m scared, Dad. I’m really scared.”

“You should be,” he replies ominously, “Raising a child is a weighty responsibility. Look at the fine job I did with you.”

“Oh…Dad…”

“I suppose you’re planning to marry the boy then?” he responds almost tiredly.

I offer him a jerky nod. “We haven’t made any definitive plans or anything.”

“Getting married for the sake of a child is never a good idea, Claudia,” he advises, “Right now you’re all caught up in the romance, but a few years down the line it’s going to hit you and you’ll feel trapped. Sooner or later staying for the child isn’t going to be enough and you’re going to put that baby through the exact same thing your mother and I put you through.”

I get where he’s coming from. I know that his relationship with Mom isn’t far from his mind as he’s talking to me right now. But Dad fails to realize that his relationship with Mom and my relationship with Zan are significantly different. Zan and I are in love with one another, whereas Mom had given away her heart long before she’d ever laid eyes on my dad. There’s honesty between us and mutual respect. As long as we have that I have to believe we’ll be alright.

Slumping down deeper into the couch cushions, I mutter, “You’d probably be happy if I just aborted the baby and was done with it.”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, “I would be.” Now it’s my turn to be aghast. I stare up at him with eyes shimmering with tears of disbelief and hurt. “It’s not for the reason you think,” he reassures me, “At first I thought it was the whole alien thing, but that’s not the reason. Not really. What’s bothering me most is your youth, Claudia. You’re so damned young. I’d hate to see you tie yourself down at eighteen, especially to a boy who has so much emotional baggage.”

“And I don’t have baggage?” I challenge coolly.

“You’re human, at least.”

“Not completely.”

“Don’t remind me.”

I shudder a bit at his reply. “How does that make you feel about me, Dad?” I wonder softly, “I mean…the other day you said I wasn’t your daughter. Is that really how you feel about me?” I hate the pleading whine I hear in my voice but I can hardly temper it.

To my relief and surprise, Dad settles onto the couch beside me and pulls me into his arms for a tight hug. “Of course, I don’t feel that way, sweetheart,” he soothes as I begin to cry, “I was just so angry… When I said that you weren’t my daughter it wasn’t about the alien thing…it was because you had lied to me about so much.”

“I…I didn’t know what to tell you,” I sniffle into his shirtfront, “I was scared.”

“I thought after last year you and I wouldn’t have any more secrets from one another,” he whispers, “But I know the way that boy punished you for telling me the truth and…I wonder if that’s the reason why you’ve been lying to me all this time. Maybe you’re scared he’ll cut you out of his life again.”

Gradually, I untangle myself from his embrace. “Dad, that’s not it,” I protest as I wipe away the last remnants of my tears, “Zan, didn’t punish me. You have to understand that my telling you the truth about him was a big deal. He begged me not to do it and I did anyway. That’s why he broke up with me.”

“For telling the truth?” Dad barks incredulously.

I shake my head sorrowfully. “You just don’t understand…”

“You’re right,” he agrees, “I don’t. I don’t understand why you’d insist on being mixed up with people who encourage you to lie to your family. I don’t understand why you would choose a life that will lead to you constantly looking over your shoulder. I don’t understand why you continually make excuses for this boy when he broke your heart so completely.”

“I broke his heart, too, Dad.”

“I don’t want to hear about that,” he says and I know from the steely edge in his tone that he means it utterly.

“Then what do you want to hear about?” I ask him numbly.

“You’re determined to have this baby?”

“I am.”

“Then I suppose you’ll need some things,” he concedes with a disgusted sigh, “A crib, changing table, car seat… You can’t possibly afford those things on your own so I’ll take care of it all. I guess we can turn the spare bedroom back at the house into a nursery.”

“Dad?”

“I’m not going to kick you out, Claudia, or turn my back on you,” he says, “I love you. You’ve disappointed the hell out of me, but that hasn’t changed. I’ll get you whatever you need for your baby.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper, but the reply is made different by the ball of emotion suddenly clogging my throat.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I find Zan sprawled across his bed, staring up at the ceiling when I conclude my talk with my dad nearly an hour later. “Knock. Knock.” At my greeting Zan lifts his head up off his pillow to regard me. “Hey there tall, dark and brooding,” I say softly, “Gotta minute?”

“Always for you,” he answers softly, holding out his arms to me. I go into them eagerly, crawling into his waiting embrace. I inhale the tart, clean scent of his aftershave and dissolve into the warmth of his body. I could really stay here forever. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispers into my hair, “I know I must have come off as a controlling son of a bitch.”

“Just a little.”

He laughs over my gross misstatement. “Everything go okay with your dad?”

“Pretty okay,” I tell him, “He’s a little miffed that Mom isn’t here, but I think he’ll get over it. He said he’d help me with the stuff for the baby.”

“He did?” Zan queries in surprise, “I didn’t expect that.”

“He’s not happy about me going through with the pregnancy, but he’s willing to support my decision.”

“Well, at least he’s out of our hair,” Zan murmurs with a smile, nuzzling my throat, “Only two more to go.” As his nimble fingers reach for the edge of my shirt I flinch away.

“Umm, Zan,” I hedge, staving off his nibbling advances, “My dad’s still here.”

Zan doesn’t bother to mask his frown of displeasure. “Why? I thought you talked everything out.”

“Not everything.”

“So…what?” Zan prods. I’m sure he can sense that I’m keeping something more from him and he’s right. His frown deepens. “Spill it.”

“I want to invite him to stay for dinner,” I reveal uneasily, “Maybe even the next couple of days.” I prepare myself for a volatile reaction and I definitely get one.

“Absolutely not!” Zan declares, unceremoniously dumping me off his lap and hopping from the bed. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking?” he rants, “My dad would stroke, Claudia, I mean literally stroke!”

“I’d really like this time with him,” I explain weakly, “He’s put his business on hold to spend this time with me. I want to make the most of it.”

“Why can’t he stay in a hotel?” Zan reasons sharply, “What is it with you and your mother always wanting to invite him, here?”

“I guess I just wanted him to be close, Zan. A hotel seems so…impersonal.” His only response is to begin pacing the room in frantic circles. “Zan, say something,” I implore.

“Dammit!”

I try not to let his terse reply deter me. “I really want this,” I tell him.

He halts mid-stride. “So what the hell does that mean?” he demands caustically, “Are you going to invite him to stay whether I approve or not?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” I reply meekly, softly. I disregarded his feelings once and it spelled disaster for us. Never again will I make that mistake. “If you don’t want him here then I won’t ask him,” I concede, “We’ll just go out to dinner instead.”

“You mean alone?” he explodes incredulously.

My own temper explodes with his wild vacillating. “It’s got to happen one way or another, Zan!” I snap, “I’m going to spend time with my father, but how it goes down is completely up to you. Now make up your mind!”

“Fine,” he compromises in a huff, “He can stay here.”

Much of my anger deflates with his near docile cooperation. “Thank y--,”

“Don’t thank me,” he interrupts stiffly, “I don’t want him here, but I don’t want you going off alone with him either. His staying here is the lesser of two evils.”

“Even still…thank you anyway.” I peek up at his stormy features from beneath my lashes. “Are you mad at me now?”

Zan drops down onto the edge of his bed. “No,” he answers and drags me back into his arms. “I guess I just wish you didn’t love the bastard so much.”

“Believe it or not,” I whisper as he brushes my lips in a tender kiss, “He said exactly the same thing about you.”

TBC