The Stars Blue Yonder (3 page)

“Anything exciting happen?” Lisa asked them.

“He's sleeping again. Nothing exciting about that,” Baylou said.

Jodenny tried to read Osherman's expression, but it was as inscrutable
as it had been for the last ten years. He met her gaze for a moment and then turned his head, unwilling to share whatever he'd learned or decided.

“Give us some time,” she said to Lisa. “This might take a while.”

She went down the hall, her sandals soft on a rug of woven grasses. The door to the spare bedroom was closed. Her hand shook when she touched the knob, but that was the normal shakes. Not anxiety, she told herself. She had nothing to fear from him, and there wasn't much to lose at this point anyway.

Then she saw Myell lying in bed, the sheets pulled down to his waist, and the shakes began all over again.

CHAPTER TWO

Jodenny snagged a chair for her sorry ass and sat down with a thump.

It wasn't that Myell looked particularly sexy under that sheet. She hadn't cared for romance in a long time and didn't think even a lightning bolt could jump-start her libido. It wasn't his apparent youth, either, though she was envious. She couldn't even look at pictures of herself anymore. Impossible that she'd once had glossy hair and smooth skin. In his sleep Myell projected vulnerability and helplessness but she didn't feel protective of him, exactly. Instead she was struck by what he represented: The past, lost to her forever. Her love, gone like water down a stream.

The shakes continued, even as she sat on her hands and clamped her knees together.

But eventually they passed, as all things did in her life, and when Myell woke she had her limbs under complete control.

He woke up slowly, in obvious confusion. For a long moment he did nothing but stare at her. Jodenny held herself perfectly still. His gaze sharpened with recognition and he made a slight noise that could have been a protest.

“So you know who I am,” she said. “That's a start.”

“Kay,” he said.

She hadn't heard that nickname in close to forever. Jodenny didn't let herself blink or flush, however. “Not anymore. That was a long time ago.”

He sat up in bed. “Not to me.”

The next words out of her mouth surprised her. They weren't what she was planning to say, and she wasn't sure she believed them, but they came out anyway. “Whoever you are, you're not Terry Myell. My husband's dead.”

He didn't reply.

“He died in my arms on Burringurrah,” she continued. “I buried him on the hill outside of town. We checked, and the corpse is still in the ground. So whatever or whoever you are, you're not him.”

He moved to the end of the bed and sat with his knees barely touching hers. His gaze was intent on her, as if memorizing every wrinkle and liver spot. She wanted to cover herself with a blanket.

“I could tell you something,” he said. “Something only you and I know. Our first time making love. What we said to each other when we were trapped in that tower on the TSS
Aral Sea
. But you already know who I am.”

Defensiveness crept into her voice. “You're not him.”

“You want to believe that,” he said, sounding thoughtful about it. “But you don't, Kay. You know me. No matter what, no matter where, you know me.”

She left the chair and paced to the window. Through the plastiglass, past Lisa's water fountain and through the slats in the fence, she could see that the neighborhood kids had returned to gawk. Jodenny turned from the window, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at him.

“Where's your dilly bag?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Long gone. But I have this.”

Myell held up his hand. His wedding ring was small and circular and instantly familiar to her.

Jodenny shifted her gaze. Her own ring was on a necklace under her shirt, though she wasn't about to admit it. “If you were him, I'd ask where you come from. And I wouldn't listen to any horseshit about a bad memory.”

Myell shifted back on the bed. She recognized the signs of being bone-tired, of having little left to draw on, but waited him out anyway.

Finally he said, “I remember Commander Nam forced me on a mission to find some missing scientists. I remember most of the worlds we went to. At the end of it, there was some kind of space station. You were there. But it was . . . I don't know. Destroyed? There were a lot of people there, and then no one but me. The whole place was falling apart. Then someone told me to use an ouroboros to escape and find you.”

“You can call one? Control it?”

“No.” More strength in his voice now, and grimness too. “I have no control. I don't know how it brought me forty years forward in time, and I don't know how to get back. All I know is I'm supposed to find some place or some thing called Kultana. Ever hear of it?”

“No,” she said, but she was barely listening to him now. The prospect of escape had her in its grip. Not so much for her—where would she go?—but for the younger generations, for her children and grandchildren. With a token ring from the Wondjina Transportation System they could return to civilization. They could enjoy plenty of food, plenty of electricity, plenty of opportunities. No more scrabbling for survival.

But he said he couldn't control it. Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn't.

“You said someone told you to use it. Who?”

“I don't know. I remember a voice, but not the details. I wasn't in the best shape at the time.”

“And now?” she asked. “If you can't control the ring, does that mean you're stuck here?”

Myell rubbed his eyes. “Would that make you happy?”

With more bitterness than she meant to reveal, she said, “It would have made me happy forty years ago.”

“Tell me how I died on Earth. On Burringurrah.”

She made a dismissive gesture. Those were old, bad memories, not easily resurrected even if she wanted to dig them up. “It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me,” he said.

Jodenny turned back to the window. “Do you remember Leorah Farber? You met her on Fortune. She worked for Anna Gayle. Or Teddy Toledo? Her partner? They're gone now. Mark Sweeney too. Hullabaloo, Louise—they're all dead now.”

“I'm sorry.”

“We were sent here, stranded here, and they lived the rest of their lives waiting for rescue that never came. But here you are. Forty years late.”

He stood up and came within touching distance of her, but didn't reach out. “It hasn't been forty years for me.”

She kept her gaze on the garden. “Your daughter's here. Your grandchildren. Trying to keep food on the table, keep the power going, keep the sewage from backing up every other day. They fight about who's in charge, about religion, about alcohol. Half of them don't know what it's like to live in civilization and they're never going to find out, because no one knows we're out here.”

Myell was silent.

“You're their only chance,” she said, and her gaze settled on him with a heavy weight. “Do you understand? You have to save them.”

“Save them but not you?” Myell asked.

Jodenny snorted. “Save me for what?”

Three knocks sounded against the door, which creaked open under Lisa's hand. Her face was tight, but also hopeful. “Are you two okay in here?”

“Fine,” Jodenny snapped.

Myell asked, “Is that dinner I smell?”

“Yes,” Lisa said. “I could use some help in the kitchen.”

Jodenny gave her a glare, but Myell said, “You bet,” and moved past Lisa down the hall.

“I said you shouldn't interrupt,” Jodenny said.

“It's just food,” Lisa said, all innocence. “A good hot meal never hurt anyone.”

“We were busy talking.”

“You were busy haranguing, I bet.”

Lisa followed Myell. Jodenny stayed at the window, suddenly tired beyond measure. By the time she joined them in the kitchen Myell was sitting on a stool and shucking small, narrow ears of corn. Lisa was chopping up tomatoes for a salad. The season's crops had come through at last, though they'd lost a lot to fungus.

Osherman was still sitting in the living room. Jodenny knew better than to try and avoid him, so she took the seat opposite. The table between them was one they'd had in their own house, once. It was recycled metal from the ship, scratched and worn over the decades but covered with a tablecloth Jodenny had received as a wedding gift.

“You want something to drink, Mom?” Lisa asked. Behind her, thin raindrops started to splatter down on the window. “Or you, Sam?”

“No,” Jodenny said.

Osherman didn't answer. He was staring at Myell and Lisa, who bent close to her father to show him where to recycle the corn husks. His intense concentration was not uncommon these days. He could stare all day at a tree, or a rock, or any old building. Jodenny didn't know what he saw when he looked so long at one thing. He couldn't or wouldn't explain it, not to her, not in these last years of their lives.

“Mom!” A flurry of feet and elbows marked Twig's full-throttle arrival through the kitchen door and up against the counter. She had dust on her face and her long hair was loose from its ponytail. She stared at Myell. “Is this him? You're my grandfather?”

Thirteen-year-old Kyle, who was Teresa's oldest son, came in close on his cousin's heels. Like his grandpa Osherman, he had sandy-colored hair, a long nose, and a narrow face. He said, “Don't be stupid, Twig. You already have a grandfather.”

Twig said, “But he was my first one. Right, Mom?”

Lisa put a wet cloth to Twig's dirty face. “You're supposed to be fishing. Where's the catch?”

“We caught a bunch,” Kyle said. “Steven's got 'em.”

Twig's brothers Steven and David soon arrived, bearing a string of river trout. Alton trudged in after them, his feet filthy up to his knees.
After Lisa made the introductions, Alton said, rather proudly, “I'm the one who found you! In the stream.”

“Where'd you come from, anyway?” Kyle asked.

Twig poked his arm. “From the grave, doofus.”

Myell paused from shucking corn. “Do I look like a zombie?”

“You're supposed to be old.” Kyle gave Myell a thorough, scrutinizing look. “As old as Nana.”

Lisa corralled the kids and pointed them toward the bathroom. “Go wash up, all of you, and then keep yourself busy until I call for supper. And if you've got homework, you better go do it now. I'll be checking later.”

Twig broke free of the gang to duck into the living room. “Hi, Nana,” she said, throwing her arms around Jodenny's neck and giving her a quick, sweaty squeeze. “Are you happy your first husband's back?”

“News travels fast around here,” Jodenny replied. “How many of those fish are yours?”

“Just one.” Twig circled around the table and hugged Osherman. “Hi, Grandpa. It's okay if I have two grandfathers?”

“We'll talk about that later,” he said.

Twig dashed off, never content to walk when she could run. Osherman's gaze turned Jodenny's way for the first time since she'd sat down, and he said, “You fainted.”

“Hours ago.”

“You were that surprised to see him?”

“You're not?”

His nose wrinkled up. “Nothing about him surprises me. Not anymore.”

Teresa and Brian showed up a few minutes later bearing fresh biscuits. They would have used the last of their good flour for those, but Jodenny didn't chide them for being so generous. Teresa gratefully sank into the nearest chair and Brian took the fish outside to fry. More visitors arrived, including Captain Balandra on her cane, and her son Malachy, who'd brought his own kids and grandkids, most of them bearing what little food they could spare. Most everyone was in good cheer and curious about Myell. Alice Romero was one of the few ill at ease, and stood
in the corner watching Myell with close attention. Osherman didn't move from his chair but instead nodded at those who came over to pay their respects. Jodenny didn't move either, though she felt like fleeing the house and heading for the hills without ever turning back.

Someone put music on. Conversations grew louder. More beer and rotgut liquor showed up, and Lisa grew more frazzled.
Any excuse for a party
, Jodenny thought in dismay. The humid air built up like a sauna even with the fans rattling overhead. The kitchen, living room, and dining room weren't big enough for the crowd, which spilled down the hall and into the bedrooms. It would have spread into the garden but for the rain that was slanting down harder and faster each minute.

Myell, meanwhile, was pestered with questions to the point where he stopped answering and instead retreated to the corner. Brian flanked him, warding off would-be interrogators, and Baylou kept him supplied with wine. Finally dinner was ready, and Lisa shooed off just about everyone who wasn't immediate family.

“Off you go,” she said. “I can't feed every single one of you.”

The partygoers disbursed cheerfully, some of them stumbling off home to their own dinners, others moving the party to the town's only pub. In the end there were several chairs, stools, and boxes set up around the dining room, with most of the grandchildren eating around the kitchen table.

Wedged between Teresa on one side and Brian on the other, with Osherman right across from her and Myell next to Lisa, Jodenny poked at her food without any appetite at all. Myell didn't seem interested in dinner either, though he dutifully pushed around bits of fish with his fork. Music played softly on an old machine while the rainy breeze sucked the curtains in and out of the window frames. Thunder and lightning rolled through the air, making Jodenny uneasy.

Lisa struggled to keep the conversation going. The party had sucked up all the easy words, leaving only awkward ones behind.

“Tell him about the school, Baylou,” Lisa prompted.