Desert Guardian (13 page)

The
memory bored into him, a firebrand of deceit and illicit acts that would haunt
him the rest of his life.

"Mommy?"

Valya
leaned forward and gathered the little girl into her arms. "What is it,
Lynette?"

"I
don't like this room," the child said with a pout. Her brown hair was so
dark it looked almost black, and it hung in long, fleecy waves down her back.
She pulled a lock of it over her shoulder and began twisting it around her
index finger. "It wobbles too much."

Only
four years old, and already, her youngest and most favored daughter had the observant
nature typical of their superior alien race. "That's because we're moving,"
Valya explained.

"I
liked that other place. Why couldn't we stay there?"

She
hoisted her child onto her lap and snuggled her face into the little girl's
sweet-smelling hair. She gave Lynette a light kiss on the nose and said, "Because
a couple of confused people are trying to stop our trip. You want to travel to
the stars, don't you?"

The
girl bobbed her head while hugging her stuffed white bunny close to her chest.

"Not
everyone understands how important our mission is, Lynette. If they believed,
they could come, too."

"So
will everyone else stay here when the earth blows up?"

Valya
grinned and lifted her brows in an expression of mock sadness. "I'm afraid
so."

"My
daddy, too?"

Valya's
grin faded. She'd always told her children the reason they must leave this
planet was because it would soon be destroyed by nuclear war. The lie wasn't
that far from the truth, considering the television news they often caught
while stopped at roadside diners along the way to a new camp. But it was
necessary for her children to understand the importance of leaving this
festering, violent world behind. They could fathom an escape from destruction,
but a journey to a better life light years away from the one they knew was
tough to justify to a child. The doomsday theory worked much better.

"Mommy?
You told me Daddy was coming with us. Why isn't he here?"

An
image of Sam floated briefly through Valya's mind, and she sighed. "I
couldn't change your father's mind about staying. He doesn't believe. And you
know what happens to nonbelievers."

Lynette
nodded and looked away.

"That's
a good girl. Now run along and play with your sisters." She gestured to a
group of young girls gathered on the bed at the back of the camper. Lynette
slid from Valya's lap and tottered down the narrow hall, holding on to the
camper's walls to keep her balance while avoiding stepping on the hem of her
oversized nightgown.

Damn
these rutted dirt roads. They had separated the caravan of trucks, vans, and
trailers, and their group now traveled through the Sheep Hole Mountains. They
would soon reach Amboy then cross over to Essex, backtracking to a road that
would lead them to Kelso and to their destination, Devil's Playground.

Valya
sighed with weariness and watched her youngest children play together on the
bed. It was way past midnight, and though they would normally be asleep by now,
she had made an exception tonight. She didn't like to disrupt their routines,
but what other choice did she have? The Arrow was close on their heels. Or he
had been until they’d hastily abandoned camp and set off across the desert for
a new home, their last home, where they would leave their empty body-vessels
behind.

She'd
given up on Kelly. The woman was way more trouble than she was worth, and Valya
didn't see the sense in sacrificing their mission just for one reincarnated
crewmember. But she truly regretted having to give up on Sam.

Star
Mother herself had come to her in a dream last night and told her she must
leave Sam behind because her congregation was running out of time. Forcing him
to see the truth would have been difficult to accomplish within the two days
they had left on this world. He needed long-term conditioning, like the kind he'd
had in his youth. She hated to lose him, but he had left something of himself
behind that was almost as good.

****

Kelly
and Sam arrived in Big Bear driving two separate cars. They'd stopped in Yucca
Valley along the way so that she could retrieve her rental car from the truck
stop. It was now two o'clock in the morning, and she should be exhausted, but
she wasn't. Must have been all that adrenalin built up from the day's
adventure, not to mention her misplaced anger at Sam for giving up the search.
She deeply regretted the stupid things she had said and was eager to mend the
rift she'd created between them.

She
pulled in behind Sam at the end of his driveway. After parking her car, she got
out and stepped up to the Jeep's driver's side window. "What a relief not
to be followed anymore, huh?"

A
sober look on his face, Sam nodded and climbed out. Cody hopped out of the
backseat and darted toward the thick woods behind the cabin, where he
disappeared into the dark.

"They've
obviously given up on us," she said brightly, hoping to get a response
from him, but he only shrugged.

"I
bet they think they're safe from us now, but we'll prove them wrong, right?"
she asked.

He
silently trudged up the stairs and crossed the deck to the front door.

While
waiting for him to unlock it, she tried thinking of a way to snap him out of
his funk.
 

"Want
some coffee?" She passed him on her way to the kitchen. "I could use
some."

"Sure.
Thanks."

Maybe
if she cooked something for him, he'd open up. "Hungry? I make a mean
omelet."

"Okay."
He crouched in front of the fireplace and started crumpling newspapers to line
the hearth before adding kindling and a few pine logs.

When
he didn't say any more, Kelly got busy in the kitchen. She had only been in the
room twice, neither time to cook, so she began familiarizing herself with its
layout. She was impressed by how neat and orderly everything was. It was
nothing like what she'd expect of a bachelor's kitchen. Clean and functional,
it had high-tech gourmet gizmos like a cappuccino maker, a sophisticated food
processor, and even a grill set into the computerized range. The man evidently
liked to cook.

She
opened the door of a stainless steel refrigerator the size of a small car.
Instead of a barley pop six pack and a lonely package of hot dogs, she
discovered a wide array of healthy groceries. No junk food. And lots of eggs.

Her
omelets turned out fabulous, if she did say so herself. It wasn't often that
she had such prime ingredients to work with. The scent of fresh bell pepper and
green onions cooked with the eggs and cheese smelled heavenly.

A
few minutes later, she and Sam sat side by side on the hardwood floor in front
of a blazing fire. They nibbled fluffy omelets from the plates in their laps
while sipping from mugs of hot coffee.

"Okay,"
Kelly said, shoving her half-eaten omelet onto the coffee table behind her. "I've
had enough of the silent treatment, Sam. I told you I was sorry for calling you
a coward. What more do you want from me?"

He
looked at her, his gray eyes glistening in the firelight. "I want you to
stop apologizing."

She
threw up her hands in frustration and stood. "I don't know what else to
say to you. Would you rather I praise your bravado? Bow to your nerves of
steel?"

"Knock
it off, Kelly."

She
sighed. "Sorry."

He
leaned back on his hands and stared up at her. "Are you always this
abrasive?"

She
hesitated while trying to think of a good answer, but the truth was always
best. "Yes."

"Is
it a new form of birth control?"

Shocked
by the question, she gasped before noticing the restrained smile on his face.
She kicked his arm, which folded beneath him, and he fell lightly on his back.
The joke had stung, but at least it got him talking. "You can have that
one, Sam, but just this once. Make a joke like that again and you're toast."

The
corner of his lip curled up in a grin. "So tell me, Miss Bancroft. Where
did you get the chip on your shoulder?"

"Who
says I have a chip on my shoulder?"

"I
do."

Okay.
So he was right. Damn him, he was almost always right when it came to reading
her. "My father put it there. You can add in all my male cousins, too. But
not Jake. He was the only one who ever gave a damn."

"I'd
think you hated men, but after last night I know that's not true." He gave
her a knowing look.

She
felt herself blush and tilted her head forward so that her hair covered her
face. She rejoined him on the floor and said, "It's hard for me to trust
men because experience has taught me they're not very dependable."

He
sat up and drew his knees to his chest, his arms crossed casually over his
kneecaps, hands clasping his elbows. Light from the fire danced across his
hair, giving it a reddish glow. Shadows settled in the angles of his face and
emphasized his bold jaw, sharp cheekbones and expressive eyebrows. Kelly could
have stared at him all night.

His
smoky gaze locked with hers. "Tell me why."

He
looked so sincere that she would have told him government secrets if she knew
any. The boring secrets of her life would have to be enough. "My father
was never there for me. When I was in grade school, he never once showed up for
parent-teacher conferences. He never helped me with my homework. I had to make
my own dentist appointments because Dad always forgot."

She
sighed and took a sip of coffee, checking his face for signs of boredom. He
still looked interested, so she went on. "I was thirteen when I had
pneumonia bad enough to put me in the hospital. Not once did he visit me there.
I was always alone. I grew up believing I had no one to count on but myself."

She
heaved in a shaky breath, aware that she'd never told this to anyone. Speaking
it out loud had brought the pain back, fresh and aching, like the pneumonia
that had crushed her chest when she was a girl.

Sam's
warm, rough fingers settled atop her own, and she glanced up into his face. The
intense look he'd had a few minutes ago was gone. His eyes had softened, turned
down a little at the corners. He didn't appear to feel sorry
for
her but rather sorry
with
her, as if his own painful past was
easier to endure just by knowing about hers. She could never compete with what
he'd suffered while growing up, and she didn't want to. But she was glad he
might now understand why she sometimes behaved as she did.

He
lifted her hand and curled his fingers around hers. "Kelly, what you said
about me being a coward—"

"No,
Sam, I didn't mean it. I only said that because—"

"Because
you were angry, I know." He stroked her hand while staring solemnly into
the fire. "I'm over most of what was done to me as a kid. It's the guilt I
have trouble living with now."

Kelly
didn't understand. "What do you have to feel guilty about? You were only a
child."

He
released her hand and leaned back against the sofa, folding his arms across his
chest. "I was twenty-three when I returned to Star Mother to convince my
mother to leave them."

"Did
she?"

He
shook his head. "She died the same night I went to bring her home."

"Oh,
Sam." She struggled for comforting words that wouldn't sound patronizing. "I
can see why you might feel guilty, but you must realize her death wasn't your
fault."

"There's
more." He sipped from his cup of lukewarm coffee, as if to fortify himself
before going on. "She'd been sick, some kind of stomach virus I had
thought, and Star Mother refused to take her to a doctor. It just kept getting
worse, and because I always had to track them down whenever they moved camp, it
took me several days to finally catch up to them. I demanded to see my mother,
but the sentry I spoke with took me to Valya's tent instead."

When
he paused, she could hardly stand the suspense. "So what happened?"

"Valya
promised she'd take me to my mother, but I had to do something for her first."

"Which
was?"

"Have
sex with her." He grabbed his mug and took a healthy gulp.

Kelly
tried to hide her shock. "And did you?"

He
shot her a glance before refocusing on the fire. "I had no choice. And don't
ask me if I enjoyed it, because if I said no, I'd be lying."

She
had imagined Valya as old and wrinkled like a witch, and thinking of Sam in her
arms made her a little queasy.

"I
know what you're thinking," he said, his expression sheepish. "Valya
is a lot older than me, but believe me when I say she didn't look it. In fact,
I don't think she had aged a single day since I was ten. But I know that's
impossible."

"How
old did she look?"

"Five
years ago she looked thirty, though she was well into her forties then. I have
no idea how she keeps herself looking so young, especially after having nine
children."