As they headed for his car, Erik asked, "Are the kidnappers in custody?"
"No," Robin replied.
"No?"
Perhaps she didn't like his tone of voice, because she shot him a furious look. "They're in the morgue. At least the one who died of a heart attack is. They told me they'll have to wait for low tide before the bodies of the other two can be recovered."
"What happened?"
"The driver lost control of the car, which went through two guard rails and wound up balanced on the edge of a cliff. One of the kidnappers got out, along with Pietro and Wanda, before it went over the edge, and then he keeled over from the shock. There was a state trooper nearby in his car. He saw everything, and he was on the scene within five minutes."
He opened the passenger's door for her, and she slid in. Once he was seated, before he put the key in the ignition, he said, "Robin—the man on the phone. I recognized his voice. I don't recall precisely where I know him from, but I know now that you could not and did not have anything to do with this. I'm sorry. Please forgive me for suspecting you."
She drew her hand back and slapped him hard enough that his teeth cut into the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. "Just drive," she growled.
I already knew she was a woman of strong character, he reflected, as he put the car in gear. Evidently she is strong in every other way as well. When she snatched that note from my hand and ran with it, she could have rivaled an Olympic runner.
After three or four miles spent driving in silence, he glanced over at her. She wore a rosy-coral twin set with a strand of pearls, and she looked ladylike and polished and remote as the moon. The color flattered her skin and her hair.
"I've fallen in love with you." he told her.
She glanced his way, which was better than nothing.
"I loved Magda. When she left me, when our elder daughter died—it was three deaths in one—I lost Anya, I lost Magda, and our marriage died as well. I mourned their loss for five years and more. When I learned that Magda was dead, it was, in its way, a relief—because it meant I could finally put away that abiding grief. Before that, her very absence was a kind of presence. It affected every aspect of my life. Until I met you, and came to love you, she was the only woman I had ever loved."
"You're going to have to turn off at the next exit," was her only response.
"And it is you that I love—Robin, I mean. Not Roberta Rowan, the movie star. I realized it yesterday, in the flower shop. It was that trip to the mountains that did it, seeing you away from Hollywood, away from the rest of the world, when you were simply yourself—."
"You haven't seen me be myself yet. Not completely…" Her voice was as bitter as myrrh. "I liked you very much—up until yesterday."
If I can't get her to New York, I will do anything to get Charles to fly out here. I will plead and grovel, he vowed silently. Whatever is troubling her—if she cannot overcome it, it will destroy her.
They made the rest of the drive in utter silence.
Like a flock of vultures, a small crowd of photographers and reporters clogged their way to the door of the state police barracks. "Miss Rowan! Miss Rowan!"
Ducking through, they made their way inside. "The children?" Robin practically flung herself at the officer behind the desk.
"They're with the barracks nurse, right this way, Miss Rowan. Wow, I never thought I'd get to meet you in person—"
There they were, Pietro and Wanda, in the company of a starchy, lumpish woman. He was dusty and disheveled, while she was tear-stained and puffy-faced, but they were alive and unharmed.
"Mama!" "Mama!" They threw themselves into her arms, and all three started crying.
He was feeling a bit misty-eyed himself, and was about to kneel down with them when the nurse cleared her throat. "Mr. Rowan?"
"I'm not—well, close enough."
"Hmph." The woman sniffed. "I wanted to talk to you about the children's reaction. Now, your son took it like a little man, but the girl—Some degree of trauma is only to be expected, but I can only describe her response as hysterical. I would diagnose her as neurotic, overly imaginative, even morbid. She insists she was responsible for the accident—and for the death of the man who had a heart attack. She says she 'magicked' both the car and the man."
"For this reason, you're labeling my daughter as neurotic and morbid?"
"Why—yes."
"Do you work with children a great deal? Are you a psychiatric professional?"
"No, but—."
"Then allow me to inform you that your mind is narrow and full of trash. Those children were born in a war zone. They spent four years of their lives being shuffled from one orphanage to another, enduring conditions which you, you rump-fed, rump-faced harpy, could not possibly imagine. And you label her neurotic because she wants to imagine she has some control over events? Bah!"
He became aware that Pietro, Wanda and Robin were all staring at him, as well as the nurse, who seemed to be feigning heart palpitations.
"Poppa!" Pietro sounded awed.
"I didn't like her either." Wanda added. "Can we go now?"
It was not that simple. There were investigators who wanted to hear all about the kidnapping, first from Erik and Robin, then from Pietro and Wanda. Erik, who thanks to his past, was preternaturally attuned to the slightest hint of suspicion from officials, detected nothing which made him wary—especially once the officers started asking Robin for autographs and asking if they could have their pictures taken with her.
Robin accepted their requests with smiles and every appearance of delight, but he could see the faint signs of stress under the mask of 'Roberta Rowan'. And she thinks I've never seen her as she truly is…
Eventually, however, they were allowed to leave.
"I want to sit up front with Mama!"
"No, me! Mememe!"
"What if I were to sit in back with the two of you, in the middle, so you can share me?" That proved acceptable, and they drove off.
Now and then, Erik glanced in the rearview mirror at… his family. Yes. They are my family—all of us together. Wanda and Pietro were cuddled up against Robin, clinging to her as if she would melt away if they let go, and she had an arm around each child, like a mother bird with her hatchlings.
Anya—was so precious to me. She embodied my belief in the future. That died with her. Now that I know the world is the same dangerous, cold place it has always been, full of evils…what do these three embody for me?
That there are surprises. Two children I did not know I had, a woman who had the heart to rescue them and love them…who would have thought it? Amid all the horrors in this world, in Pandora's box there remains— hope.
What miracle kept them alive, when their captors died? Wanda said she 'magicked'—no, that isn't strictly true. The nurse said she said it. When she was questioned by the police, Wanda said nothing about that at all.
His musing was derailed when Pietro raised his head and volunteered, "I'm hungry."
"Me, too." Wanda seconded.
Erik looked to Robin. She raised a hand to her head. "I'd rather not go in anywhere—you saw what happened back at the police barracks. The last thing I want is to be signing autographs all night."
"There are hamburger stands along the way." Erik pointed out. "You could wait while we went in—if you don't mind the limited menu or eating in the car, that is."
"Hamburgers!" gasped Pietro.
"Oh, please, Mama! Please, please, please!" Wanda started bouncing up and down.
"I can see where the majority vote is." Robin smiled. "All right—as long as we park out of the way."
"There's a place up ahead." Erik changed lanes. "What flavor milkshake would you like?"
"Chocolate, please."
Two paper sacks full of food later, they were back in the car. "These are surprisingly good. Not too greasy." Robin observed, as she dipped some fries in ketchup. What was that place called?"
"McDonald's." Erik looked at the bag.
"Oh, yes. They have a place in San Bernardino, too. We'll have to remember them, and come back some time." Robin sipped her milkshake. "As good as these are, I'm sure they'll catch on."
"Mama?" Wanda piped up. "I'm sorry your car got all smashed up."
"Sweetheart, I don't care about the car. I'm just glad you didn't get smashed up with it." Robin hugged her daughter.
"But I magicked it. I m-m-magicked that man, too." Her lower lip began to quiver. "I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to be safe!"
"Wanda, don't—.We can talk about this when we get home. You know it's one thing to talk about magic when we're alone, and another when we're around people who—who just wouldn't understand, like that mean nurse. Just know that whatever happened, I'm so glad that my wonderful, beautiful daughter is all right that I couldn't be mad at her for anything in the world."
Robin wiped tears away from Wanda's eyes with a paper napkin. "Uh-oh. I didn't realize there was a blob of ketchup on this. Now it's streaked across your nose. You should see yourself!" Wanda giggled, even through her tears.
Curious, Erik asked, "Wanda, how do you mean you magicked the car? Did you say abracadabra to it?"
"No, Poppa. I just went like this—." She gestured out the open window.
Robin's, "Wanda, don't!" came too late. The telephone pole a few dozen yards away broke in half and toppled slowly backward.
She did that. Wanda did that. His glance at Robin caught her with an absolutely horrified expression on her face. And Robin knows she did it. That's why she's been reading up about mutants. Wanda, my Wanda, my daughter, is a mutant. He looked at Pietro, who looked disgusted. He knows, too. I wonder if he could be a mutant as well…
He took pity on Robin and said, "What an odd coincidence."
"Y-yes, isn't it?" she replied, weakly. "Should we report it to someone?"
He gestured to the parking lot of the McDonald's, where several people were pointing to the broken pole. "I believe that is being taken care of. Everybody ready?"
"Uh-huh." "Yes, I am." "Let's go home!" He started the car.
Robin knows Wanda is a mutant, and she doesn't care. She loves her anyway. The thought made him very happy.