The Delta Factor (21 page)

Then a dark-haired girl danced over and grasped one of Cochise's gloved hands.

The big man turned and looked a silent question toward Cliff.

The girl tugged harder, trying to lead him toward the bonfire. Several of the others gestured for him to come.

Cochise gave a single shrug, walked over, and started a lumbering dance.

If Cliff had not been sweating so fiercely, more than likely he would have found the scene hilarious.

After two trips around the fire, Cochise broke loose from the girl's grasp, backed off, waved goodbye to all the folks, and motioned for Cliff to come along.

When they had filled several heavy-duty plastic refuse bags with the stalks, they returned to the truck, dumped the sacks into garbage containers, and taped the lids shut. Then they drove farther down the road, stopped again, and began a frantic sweaty stripping.

Toweling off his face, Cliff said, “I hope you enjoyed your little jig back there.”

Cochise gave an enormous grin. “Probably thought I was just another friendly alien.”

Once they were under way, Cliff said, “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“If I do,” Cochise replied, “you'll find out soon enough.”

“With all that build-up Debs gave you, I was just wondering. Why didn't you ever go in for higher training?”

Cochise was a while before replying, “My people come from down Wanchese way.”

“Don't think I've ever heard of it.”

“It's a small village near the coast. Just this side of the back of beyond.”

“Brings to mind a sleepy land of marsh islands and anemic children,” Cliff offered.

“Mosquitoes and snakes and not enough shade,” Cochise agreed. “You been there?”

“Not yet. But I'd like to.”

“Mostly made its living from clamming and fishing, until the sixties, anyway. By then the clambeds were giving out, and folks discovered there was a lot of money in drugs. Went into the importing business in a big way. I grew up chopping firewood for stills and hauling bales of marijuana dropped from low-flying planes. By the time I finished high school, most of my buddies were doing time. I got out the only way I knew how. I ran.”

Cliff was silent for a time, then, “You're saying that you've come a long way already. I can understand that.”

“Yeah, Debs said you were a smart one.”

“She's a good lady.”

“Debs is one of the finest people I know,” Cochise agreed. “She's got a way of making sense out of a lot of stuff that before was just noise.”

“You mean, like this religion thing?”

Cochise released his grin once more. “She's been after you too, has she?”

“Some. But it's like you say, somehow she does it without making me want to back off.”

“Yeah, she's got me listening and thinking, I'll say that much. I ain't there yet, but if she keeps pushing, it's hard to say where I might wind up.”

The sun was beginning to brush faint strokes on the horizon when they arrived back at Deborah's place. There was a note pinned to the door that read, “I've had a serious attack of the sleepies. If I'm disturbed I'll sic the cats on you, so be quiet. Blair called. She wants you both over for breakfast. She said anytime would be okay. I'll call you later.”

When they arrived at Miss Sadie's, Cliff stepped from the truck and looked out over the bay. The town was as quiet as the sunrise and as loud as creation. Doves cooed and flew in peaceful pairs upon wings that whistled up the gathering light. A car passed slowly, apologetically, aware that its presence was alien to the moment. The air was hot and heavy with country odors.

He turned back to find Cochise watching him with fathomless dark eyes. Cliff said, “This is a million miles from what I'm used to, but somehow feels like home.”

The big man nodded slowly, thoughtfully. The inspection continued a moment longer, then he asked, “This lady friend of yours much of a cook?”

“One way to find out.”

Blair covered her shock at Cochise's size with a couple of rapid blinks. “I'm surprised I've missed seeing you up to now.”

“I try to stay as far away from the suits as I can,” Cochise rumbled. “They make me break out in hives.”

“Well, pleased to meet you, I'm sure.” She turned her attention to Cliff and her expression softened. “I'm certainly glad to see you again.”

“Likewise.” He put everything he could into his look, his smile, his hug. Her body felt so good close to his it was hard to let go.

But she eventually backed off, smiled once more especially for him, then turned and said, “Can I fix you some breakfast, Mr., ah, I'm sorry, I don't recall—”

“Cochise,” he replied, ducking to enter the back door. “Been hearing it so long I sorta got used to it myself.”

“All right,” she said, trying not to be rattled by a man who loomed a full head and shoulders above her and outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds. “Why don't you two have a seat over there at the table?” She winced as the chair groaned loudly, but the legs held. “Now then. What would you gentlemen care for breakfast? I was thinking of some eggs and bacon.”

“I could eat a few eggs, sure,” Cochise rumbled. “Make for a change.”

She paused with two eggs in one hand and the beater in the other. “A change?”

“From normal.”

She turned full around. “And just what, may I ask, is your normal breakfast?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Same as every other meal with my people.”

“Your people. I see. And what might that be?”

“Sun-dried eel and corn fritters.” From his back pocket Cochise pulled the makings for a hand-rolled cigarette. “Do you mind?”

Blair sort of shook herself. “Of course not. Use that saucer there for an ashtray. Did I hear you say eel?”

He nodded. “Deep-fried bloodworms and grits will do in a pinch.”

She turned to Cliff and demanded, “Is that man making fun of me in my own kitchen?”

Cliff studied the big man, found himself understanding Cochise's need to flavor meeting this beautiful woman with his own brand of humor. “I'd always heard the tribes down east were partial to roadkill.”

“Yeah,” Cochise agreed, then licked and rolled the cigarette shut. “But only if they're ripe enough for us to find them by smell.”

“Wait just one minute,” Blair demanded.

“And bird-dropping soup, I heard that somewhere too,” Cliff said.

Cochise grinned, showing far too much whitework to fit in one person's mouth. “Special occasions only.”

“There are two men who in just about five seconds are going to be wearing their breakfast instead of eating it,” Blair snapped.

“Sorry,” Cliff said, and let his own grin break through. He asked Cochise, “You think she'd hit like a man?”

Cochise gave her a frank inspection, said, “Naw, more like a truck, I figure.”

“People who make fun of me in my kitchen tend not to get invited back,” she said.

A scuffling in the hallway announced the arrival of someone else. “Blair? Do you have company in there?”

“Not for long,” she said.

Miss Sadie came through the doorway, caught sight of Cochise, and stopped cold. “Good gracious sakes alive. How did you fit through the door?”

“Miss Sadie, this is Cochise,” Cliff said. “Don't stand up, man, there hardly isn't room for us all in here as it is.”

“Pleased to meet you, I'm sure. You can let out that lungful of smoke now. Your face is turning positively green. Don't worry, I've smelled a cigarette before.” She inspected him more closely. “Are you an Indian?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“And with manners. Well, that's nice. Where is your family from?”

“Down Wanchese way.”

She nodded. “That is rough territory, from all the reports I've heard. I suppose your size served you well.”

“It was enough to keep me alive and get me out of there,” he agreed.

A glimmer of approval shone through. “And what are you doing now, may I ask?”

“Working in the Pharmacon labs.”

“He's Deborah's assistant, Auntie.”

“Why, of course, Deborah spoke of you the very first night she came by.” She cocked her head to one side. “Yes, I can see how someone might think they had run into some serious trouble meeting you on a dark night. But Deborah spoke very highly of you. She said you are the most capable and intelligent assistant she has ever had.”

Cochise busied himself by grinding his cigarette into the saucer.

“Well, I want you to feel free to stop by any time you are down this way.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Cochise mumbled.

“Blair, dear, are you sure you're cooking enough eggs for two big men like this?”

“I'm cooking all we have.”

“That will have to do, then.” She turned toward Cliff. “And how are you this morning, young man?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“We've been seeing quite a bit of you around here lately, haven't we?”

“Auntie,” Blair warned.

“When I was your age, young man, a courtship would reach a point where—”

The spatula came down on the side of the frying pan with a bang. “All of a sudden the air is getting awfully stuffy in here.”

“Just going, dear,” she said mildly. Then to Cliff, “You must come by some time for another little chat, young man.”

Blair gave the scrambled eggs a good working over and muttered something that sounded distinctly like, over my dead body. Cliff made do with a nod and a smile as the old lady patted his shoulder and shuffled from the room.

After breakfast they saw Cochise off to work, then took a walk down by the Edenton Bay. The water sparkled silver and beckoning in the morning sun. The breeze was just strong enough to keep the air from being sultry. The day smelled of water and dew-soaked grass and fresh beginnings.

“What made you decide to move down from Norfolk?”

“The job,” Blair said, then stopped herself. “No, that is my automatic reply. It's true as far as it goes, I suppose. But that was the surface reason, not the reason behind why I started looking for the job in the first place.”

Cliff felt more than heard the barriers coming down. He responded as best he could, by reaching over and taking her hand. Slender fingers responded with the lightest of pressure.

“It was too easy for me to lose my dreams in the big city,” Blair said. “I became all wrapped up in things that didn't mean anything once the day was over.”

There was such sorrow in her voice, he wanted to reach out, crush her to his chest, tell her it was all right now. All he said was, “I understand.”

The pressure on his hand increased a fraction. “I suppose Norfolk is like any big city. It breeds a patter so polished it can blind you. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't hold on to my way. I forgot myself. I forgot what was important. All the ideals and all the things that made me who I was.” She hesitated, then finished more quietly, “Or who I wanted to be.”

They sat down at the end of the pier. Blair looked over the placid waters to where gulls made lazy circles over a pair of fishing boats, and told him, “You were right in what you said the other night. That's why I flew off the handle. It was hard to stand there and have someone see me so clearly.”

Cliff said nothing, content to sit and bask in the warmth of a heart that was gradually opening for him.

She pulled off her shoes and swirled one toe in the cool water. “I left Norfolk because too much of the big city was rubbing off. Maybe a stronger-willed girl could have taken it, but I felt like I was just one step away from getting sucked down the tubes. I woke up one morning and realized I didn't like myself anymore. I hadn't been to church in I don't know how long. I drank too much. I punctuated my sentences with words that would have gotten my mouth washed out with soap when I was a kid. My voice was becoming as hard as my eyes, and I was finding it tougher every day to remember all the reasons for saying no.”

“You were raised in Norfolk?”

“A very different Norfolk. It was three completely different cities then—Norfolk, Portsmouth, and Virginia Beach. Now it's one giant urban sprawl, just melting into each other, joined by strips of fast-food restaurants and shopping malls. Most of the character I knew in my growing-up years has gone. What's replaced the traditional charm is certainly faster and glitzier, but an old-fashioned girl just doesn't have a home there anymore.”

“Tell me about your family, Blair.”

“They're good people.
Good
people. My older brother runs Pop's plumbing-supply shop and does a lot of work for the Navy. My baby brother is a guy who's been in love with machines since before he could walk. He could spend days talking about fixing up that car of yours. He's a specialist at repairing what they called CNC machines, those computer controlled tools that cost as much as some factories. He pulls in good money. Both my brothers are married and busy raising babies. My folks are in love with being grandparents.”

“And what do they think of their beautiful girl of the family?”

She was too honest to deny her attractiveness. Instead she replied in a little-girl voice, “They love me and they hurt for me and they wish I was happy.”

Blair turned to him, her look tainted with long-held sadness. “Who'd have thought it would be worth looking for lifelong love in a world that's gone crazy for Madonna?”

“You know what your problem is?” Cliff said. “You're too good for what modern times want to offer.”

“So,” Blair dredged up a smile. “You know any nice old- fashioned guys who're looking for a great deal on some slightly used goods?”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe you've already found one.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded, the smile vanishing. “Maybe that's what keeps me up at night, scared to death of being wrong one more time.”