The Fox Inheritance (27 page)

She looks at me like my answer carries all the weight of the world.

"Yes, we did," I say. What's wrong with her? The hollowness in my stomach rises to my chest.

"Even if it turns out badly, those kinds of friends never leave your heart. Never."

"That's right," I answer. It's the first time I've seen her like this, almost like she's paralyzed. She's been so strong since I've been here--stronger than me--but now she looks so weak. I reach across and squeeze her hand.

She turns to look at me with a faint hesitant smile. "You don't like coffee. I know. I was distracted."

I lean forward to stand. "Maybe I should have some coffee--"

"I didn't know how else to say it. That's why I said
only
superficial, Locke."

I sit back down.

"All of her scratches, gashes--everything--they were within reach of her own hand. And the angle--"

"Are you trying to say--"

"They were self-inflicted."

I jump up and face her. "That's crazy. It has to be a coincidence. She--"

"Locke, that isn't what has me worried. There's more." She sets her mug aside and reaches out for my hand, trying to pull me down next to her, but I resist. "It was her eyes, Locke. I've seen eyes like that before."

Eyes? What is she talking about? I grab her arm and pull her off the couch and down the porch steps away from the house.

"Locke! Stop! What are--"

But I don't stop, not until we are both breathless and at the edge of the pond.

"Now. Say it here. Where no one can hear. Get it out and then let's forget it."

"I can't forget, Locke. I've seen that look in a face before. I've seen so many over the years. The first one was a boy named Dane. I was warned that he was missing something. He was. I still don't know what the
it
is, but it's the difference between emptiness and connection. And it's a dangerous thing not to have. Dane was eventually institutionalized after killing three people--"

"One psycho guy and you're lumping Kara with him?"

"I told you, there've been others. I saw Kara look at you. There was nothing in her face I could read. Her eyes were empty."

I shake my head. This is crazy. A look in the eyes?

"She was there for me, Jenna. For two hundred and sixty years, when the rest of the world abandoned me, she was there. I wouldn't call that empty!"

"How? Exactly
how
was she there for you, Locke?"

I look down at my feet. Something. I shift from one foot to the other. My eyes sting, and I turn around so I'm looking out at the pond.
Something about her isn't right, Locke
. Miesha said it long before Jenna did. I felt it myself. From the beginning, I knew she had changed. Sometimes I'm even afraid of her, but I always thought if I loved her enough I could make up for everything I had done, everything the world had done to us. But she's still not the same Kara. At least not yet, but even that doesn't mean she's empty, whatever that's supposed to mean.
She was there for me. Always there
. That's something. I owe her so much. Kara has to be all right, because if she isn't, maybe I'm not either.

"She made me know that I still existed," I whisper. I swallow away the stab in my throat. "It's only eyes, Jenna. They aren't even hers. Gatsbro made them for her. He made mine. How can you judge someone by something made in a lab?" I turn around to look at her. "She's been through hell, Jenna. So have I. Do my eyes frighten you?"

She shakes her head.

"Isn't it possible that you're wrong? You only saw her awake for an hour at the most."

"Of course. I want to be wrong but--"

"Her eyes were manufactured by a madman, Jenna. He didn't care about us. I have green flecks now. Look at you--you're two inches shorter. But our minds, those are still ours, aren't they?"

She nods. The rims of her eyes fill with tears.

"Give her a chance. I watched the two of you when you first saw each other. Wasn't that real?"

She swipes the hair from her forehead. "Yes. I think so. I'm not sure anymore. I needed to see her so badly. It was all such a rush--"

"That's exactly what it was. A rush." I reach out and hold her hand. "Let's give it some time before--"

"Hey."

Jenna and I both jump and spin toward the voice. My eyes freeze on the porch.

"Can an old friend join you two?"

Chapter 69

Kara walks down the porch steps. She wears Jenna's clothes. She spins to model them. "The pants are way short, but the shirt fits great. Looks like you and I are still almost the same size. But really, Jenna, you need to jazz up your style." She is smiling like I have not seen her smile in the last year.

"Kara." Jenna hurries to greet her, and they hug for another eternity.

When they let go, I ask, "Are you feeling
okay
?" making sure Kara has firm eye contact with me. She only smiles, like that is all I am trying to ask her. Like we haven't had a deeper connection.
Kara
. But I get nothing back from her.

"I'm feeling great. Crazy, huh? But you know me--a good night's sleep works wonders--and whatever Jenna put on my feet worked like magic. No more blisters." Classic Kara. Flip breeziness. I used to love that about her way back then, but now it makes me uneasy. She grabs our hands and squeezes them. "Can you believe this? The three of us together again. At last."

I stare at her, trying to make sense of the grin still plastered on her face. "Yeah. Amazing."

I watch Jenna's hesitant smile. "Kara, there's so much we need to talk about--"

"I know, Jenna. I hope we haven't put you at risk by coming here. We just didn't know where else to go."

"No, of course not. I'm glad you came. That's not what I was talking about. I mean the past. Everything that's happened. I had no idea that--"

Kara lifts her hands like she's trying to halt the conversation. "Please. Can't it wait? I know we need to talk but--" She looks up at the sky, her eyes wide open and glistening. She nods like she is gathering strength and then looks back at us. "Yes, there's a lot to talk about. We've
all
been through so much. But after all these years ... I think I just need some time. Rehashing the past is all I've done for eons. I don't want to ruin our very first hours together with more of that. For a few hours, anyway, can't we just..." She shrugs. "Actually
live
? Like old times? Is that too much to ask?"

"But--"

"No buts." She blinks away tears. "Look how life took such an unexpected turn for all of us. Who knows when it could happen again? I know there are things we need to discuss--like that nutjob Gatsbro--but I desperately need a breather, even if it's just a short one.
Please.
Let's go have breakfast. Go for a swim in this pond.
Anything
." She looks down at her ankles and too-short pants. "Shopping. That's something we used to love to do together. Let's go shopping."

Jenna looks at me like I might know what's going on, but I am more mystified than she is. She looks back at Kara. "I can have Allys pick some things up for you. The shopping colonnade requires approved ID."

"Oh." Kara's smile fades and she sighs. "Sure."

Jenna glances at me again briefly and then grabs Kara's hand. "But there's the open-air bazaar where you don't need ID. It's a place the Non-pacts can shop too. They don't have the variety that--"

"Perfect," Kara says. "This is exactly what--"

"Wait a minute," I say, stepping forward and pushing them apart. "You can't be serious. Shopping? Have you both lost your minds?"

Kara puts her hands on her hips. "You're right, Locke. On our very first day together, let's sit around here and be all mopey and serious. Oh, wait, been there, done that for the last year. Or we could do something really outrageous and try to act like
normal people
for an hour or two. What a silly concept."

"But there's still the small matter of the nutjob you mentioned. I think it would be smarter to lie low."

Kara rolls her eyes. "Right. Gatsbro is sure to be out shopping for pants at an obscure little bazaar when he's hell-bent on finding us."

"And Miesha and Dot did say he was in Mexico," Jenna adds.

And it's settled. Just like that. We are going shopping. All of us. When Miesha and Dot hear of the excursion, they want to go too. Jenna mystifies me as much as Kara does, the way she went along with it so easily. I almost think she's glad to get Kara away from the house, like maybe that will be a safer place to be. Maybe she's right. Or maybe it was just the guilt and not being able to deny Kara such a simple request.

I watch Kara closely as we get breakfast ready, and I see what Jenna sees--an unreadable face. Yes, there are smiles, questions, surprise, and reactions, but nothing that goes deeper than the surface of her skin. I used to be able to read the anger and disaster that lurked there. Now I only see the superficial movements of cheek and bone, lips and brow, carefully orchestrated, carefully moving on cue.

In the middle of the busyness and chatter, Kayla toddles into the kitchen still in her pajamas, clutching a small pink bear.

"And who do we have here?" Kara asks, kneeling down to Kayla's level.

You know exactly who it is. You've been watching the house for a week
. But I get no response from Kara, not even a flinch.

Jenna walks over from the counter and stands behind Kayla, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Kara, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Kayla. Say hello, angel."

"Hello."

"
Your
daughter?" Kara's surprise seems genuine. Is it possible that as she watched from a distance, she mistook Kayla for Allys's child? Her lashes flutter briefly, but then the perfect control is back. "You've been busy, Jenna," she says. I listen for sarcasm, but her voice is only thick with admiration. I wait for the explosion, but there is none. I push.
Yeah, she was busy living a life while we were crammed in a hellhole.
Nothing.

"She's beautiful," Kara says. She holds out her arms, and Kayla moves forward, and they hug. I watch the cautious, stilted movements of Jenna, right behind her, trying to act casual but staying within a few protective inches of Kayla. There seems to be no need. Kara happily chats with Kayla about pink bears, bumps in the night, and the need for chocolate syrup in oatmeal.

As with all new experiences, Dot is eager to get under way and is out the door the minute we are done with breakfast. Miesha is mostly quiet.

Just before we leave, when I'm standing at the kitchen sink getting a drink of water, I spot Jenna and Allys through the window by the garage whispering. Allys is shaking her head.

I know, Allys, but what could I say?

You could say no. You saw--

--but it might be better to be away--

--a public place. Maybe so, but--

--and she seems to be trying so hard.

But the--

Locke said--

--but what does he--

--I owe her this.

I set my water glass on the counter and stare into the empty sink.
Locke said
. I begged her to give Kara a chance. That's what it comes down to. We owe one another.
There are all kinds of friends you make in life.... But there's something different about someone who spreads their wings with you
. Especially if they become more than friends.

"Ready?"

I spin to see Kara's smiling face just inches from mine. She snuck up on me as quietly as a shadow. I look at the lips that kissed mine two nights ago, but there is only the mask of a smile on them now.

Don't shut me out, Kara
.
Please
.

But there isn't even a flicker of connection, and I wonder if there ever was. Either I'm crazy, or she is.

I nod. "Ready," I say. Maybe the open space of the bazaar is a good idea after all.

Chapter 70

The open-air bazaar is aptly named. It is bizarre. The train station at Topeka was everything slick and bright that I might expect from this world, but the bazaar is a poor, freakish cousin--a mixture of modern and misfits, slick and slimy, the kind of place my brother and his friends would fit in. The noise and smells give it a carnival atmosphere. V-ads appear before your face here too, but these aren't ads for luxury items like at the train station. Instead they're for bail bonds, cheap medical care, and discount coupons for the sideshows. Jenna shows us the trick to make them disappear for good. Instead of waving them away like we did at the train station, we are to grab them and tear them in two as if they were trash. Even though they're transparent and virtual, they make a sound like ripping paper before they vanish like confetti, and our bodyprint is temporarily registered to receive no more ads while we're at the bazaar.

Before we start down the first aisle, Kara announces that she found a money card a few days ago when she was rummaging through a trash can for food, so all purchases are on her. The Kara I know would starve before she would eat someone else's trash. And who throws money into a trash can? She seems to be better at living on the streets than I gave her credit for. Suspicion flashes across Allys's face, but Jenna turns before I can see her reaction.

We walk down the aisles, if you can call them that. They twist and turn haphazardly. Some of the structures look more permanent, with shelves for merchandise and canvas walls for protection against the weather, but many stores are just rugs rolled out with wares thrown on top of them. One woman gives wildflowers away, hoping for donations. Groups of land pirates walk freely down the aisles, but I never see one by himself. They are always at least in pairs, like they need someone to watch their back.