Chapter 5 -- Revelations
Searching our hearts for so long . . .
Jessie sat staring at the computer screen in
consternation. What had just
happened? One minute they were talking
and the next, Jonny was simply gone. Right in the middle of a conversation. What had she done? Obviously she
had made him angry. But how? She sat, searching her mind
frantically. What had she said? The e-mail. That had to be it. He was angry
about her not responding to his mail. He said he had sent a note about Brandon. Jessie began hunting through her accumulated messages. There were 23 from Jonny . . . she hadn't
realized she was that far behind. She
supposed he had a right to be testy. Which one would it be? After the
abrupt way he had left, she didn't think she could bring herself to read
through all of them right now. How about the one that has 'Brandon' for a
subject line, stupid, she thought sarcastically. She opened the note and saw immediately that it was a long
one. She settled herself down to read.
Ten minutes later she finally reached the end. Oh,
man, she thought, no wonder his
temper is short. She knew he was
really worried about Brandon. He didn't
say it in so many words, but she knew him well enough to know that he felt
responsible for the boy. The two of
them had become incredibly close while they were all stranded on the mountain
in California. And it was funny too,
because they had originally detested each other on sight. But after the dams
had broken and they had all been forced to become a team to survive, the two of
them had laid aside their differences and that bond had been forged. Jonny had relied heavily on Brandon during
the dire days that followed the earthquake, and the boy had proved to be
creative and good with the other children. Jonny had praised him and given him credit for his ideas to their
rescuers and the media who had washed over them like a tidal wave, once they
were down off the mountain. Jessie
remembered Brandon being somewhat overwhelmed by the attention and not quite
sure how to deal with it. It was Jonny
that had stepped in again, supporting the boy and shielding him when it all
became too much. She also remembered
looking over at the two of them on the flight back to Maine. Jonny had been leaning back in one of the
seats in a kind of half-doze and Brandon had been curled up in the seat next to
him. The armrest between the seats had
been raised and the boy had slept with his head in Jonny's lap. His hand rested on the boy's back and every
so often, when Brandon would stir, Jonny would stroke his hair gently. She remembered Brandon smiling in his sleep.
Jessie knew that Brandon's attachment stemmed largely from
Jonny's attention and concern. If Jonny
ever got bored with having the younger boy around, it never showed. No matter how busy he was, he always made
time for Brandon. Immediately after
they returned from California, Jonny had spent much of his free time on the
weekends and after school doing things with the boy . . . until Alicia Simmons
began to show symptoms of jealousy. Slowly, their activities tapered off, and for a while, Jonny seemed to
suffer from withdrawal. Jessie had been
able to tell that he missed the time he had spent with Brandon. But then she and her mother had taken off
for Paris, and in the aftermath of that fiasco, she had more or less forgotten
about the boy. But it was obvious that
Jonny hadn't, because when Brandon found himself in over his head again, it was
Jonny he had run to. And once again,
Jonny had been there for him.
Jonny had developed a fine sensitivity for people, and he
seemed particularly good with children. It wasn't only Brandon that had become attached to Jonny during that
camp session. To this day, every one of
the kids from the summer camp kept in contact with him. Jason and Tasha would run up and hug him
whenever they ran into him in Rockport, and just recently she had found out
that he had quietly made arrangements to get Todd professional help with his
stuttering problem after they got back from the camp trip. He had even seen to it that the costs were
offset by one of Dr. Quest's charitable foundations, since the family couldn't
afford to pay for the sessions with the speech therapist. And Amy! Jessie had no idea what he had done, but she had run into Amy on the
Rockport athletic field the week before she and her parents had left for
Colombia. Amy was now on the girls
soccer team at her school, and she had told Jessie that she was no longer doing
Junior Miss beauty pageants. Jessie had
been astonished and told Amy so. The
girl had shrugged and said that she had never liked doing them and that Jonny
had talked to her mother about it for her. Jessie couldn't even begin to imagine what he could have said that would
have talked Amy's mother into allowing her to quit, but obviously he had found
something that worked. Amy was eleven
years old again, and seemed to be without a care in the world. All of these changes had been caused by
Jonny Quest's concern for those kids. He was no miracle worker, of course, but he cared enough to try, and
sometimes that extra effort brought about results. That sensitivity was one of the things that she loved about him.
Jessie suddenly realized she was crying. She
was the one who needed his attention right now. She needed to have him
hold her and kiss her, and to have some of that concern focused on her. She wrapped her arms around her ribs and
rocked slightly as she sobbed. She
wanted to go home! Jessie got up from
her makeshift desk and lay down on her bed. Gradually, her tears faded and she lay exhausted, thinking about the
situation. She needed to talk to
Jonny. It was time she was honest with
him about the way she felt, because she wasn't going to last much longer being
eaten up inside like this. She loved him
. . . and it was time to tell him that, even if it meant risking the possibility
that he didn't feel the same way.
Slowly, another thought occurred to her. Maybe she should get another opinion. Hadji. Hadji knew Jonny better than anyone else alive. Probably knew her better than anyone else, too, if it came right down to it. Maybe Hadji would know what to do. She sat up abruptly. Where was the mobile phone? She needed to make a call . . .
***
On the other side of the globe, Hadji also sat staring at
his computer. But his thoughts were
very different. He was steeling himself
for a confrontation. In about 15
minutes, he was scheduled to meet with his advisors to go over various affairs
of state. And the hottest topic on that
agenda, he was sure, was whom they had decided he would marry. His mother hadn't even bothered to come and
talk with him about it this morning. She had merely sent a note informing him that there was a meeting
immediately after lunch, and that it was vital that he attend.
He had been struggling with this since his discussion with
her the night before. And he knew that
he simply could NOT bring himself to
go through with what they wanted of him. It was WRONG. He rose and
began to pace in agitation. He had even
tried to meditate, but this entire situation had him so upset that he couldn't
reach the necessary state of relaxation to achieve even the first level
trance. And his agitation must be
transmitting itself, he realized. Jonny
had picked up on it immediately, even though they were thousands of miles
apart. Hadji wished desperately that he
had taken Jonny up on the offer to talk. He needed to unload to someone and get some perspective on the entire
situation.
He turned abruptly and crossed to pick up the phone. I need
to talk with Father, he thought abstractedly as he dialed. As the phone began to ring, that stray
thought penetrated through to his conscious mind. He stood there, shocked. He had never called Benton Quest "father" in all of the years he had lived
with him. When, he asked himself, did I
begin to think of him that way? With
a shaking hand, he replaced the phone in the cradle just as a distant "Hello?"
came through the line. He crossed the
room slowly and sank down onto the divan where his mother had sat the afternoon
before.
For the first time, he saw clearly the differences between
himself and his adopted family. He had
been born to royalty and that brought certain expectations and responsibilities
with it. But he had moved to the United
States at a very young age to live with Benton Quest and his family. Dr. Quest had provided a stable, albeit
somewhat unique, home environment to a child whose only remembered loyalty had
been to a shadowy peddler who had encouraged him to steal to put food on their
table.
From the beginning, Hadji had never had any doubts that he
was wanted in the Quest household. Dr.
Quest seemed to have an infinite capacity for love when it came to his two
sons. And never once had Hadji gotten
the feeling that Dr. Quest cared for him any less because he hadn't fathered
him. The two boys were equal in all
things as far as he was concerned.
At some point over the years, Hadji had come to accept Dr.
Quest as his father. That acceptance
had given him roots and the basis for his own value system. And as much as Hadji moved into the culture
of the United States, he was always encouraged to recognize and celebrate his
own personal differences. Dr. Quest had
urged him to explore his heritage and his native country, and had gotten the
finest teachers he could find when Hadji indicated a desire to learn some new
skill native to his home country. And
what was more, he had never begrudged Hadji's desire to know who his real
parents were. Even when he had
disobeyed Dr. Quest's specific orders and used the experimental virtual memory
helmet to try to trigger memories of his natural parents, he had not been
angry; only concerned that the equipment might have hurt his son. He, more than any other person alive, had
prepared Hadji to take over as Sultan of Bangalore.
And in that instant of self-awareness, Hadji Singh also
realized something else. Every person
has a destiny in this life that was his alone to fulfill. His was serving as the Sultan of Bangalore
to the best of his ability, no matter how difficult or distasteful that might
be at times. To do any less would be a
betrayal of his own heritage. But even
more importantly, it would be a betrayal of the man that had raised him. In truth, Benton Quest had become his father in all aspects. He had shown confidence in his adopted son's
abilities and had believed in him without reservation. Hadji promised himself that he would not
fail his father . . . he would live up to Dr. Quest's expectations. No matter what it took.
Hadji rose from the divan, straightened his tunic, and
gathered himself carefully. He would do
what he had to do . . . starting with this meeting . . .
***
Hadji sat, silent, cold and collected, in the midst of
chaos. The din was incredible. His advisors yelled and beat on the table in
front of them in anger. One of them
stood leaning over the table, stabbing a finger at him with every word. His mother, sitting opposite him at the far
end of the table, was silent; but her fury was apparent in the thinness of her
mouth and the burning fire in her eyes. They were determined to bend him to their will in this, just as they had
done with everything else since he first became Sultan. But this time he would not relent. He had reached a turning point in his life
this morning, and it had brought with it a strength he never realized he possessed. They wanted him to be the Sultan of
Bangalore. Fine. Then it was time they came to understand
what that meant.
"ENOUGH!" he
thundered, rising to his feet. The
abrupt silence was stunning. Hadji's
advisors stared at him in shock. This
was not the uncomfortable, diffident young man who attended the reception last
night. Instead, he was confident,
self-assured . . . and very, very angry. Slowly, all of them settled into their chairs, leaving only the young
Sultan standing.
"This has gone on far too long," Hadji said coldly, staring
at each person in the room. "I told you
I will not take a wife in this fashion." One of the men at the table opened his mouth to protest, but a
hard glare made him change his mind. "The manner of this . . . cattle
call . . . " several people around the table winced, " . . . is
unforgivable. You tell me I don't
understand the traditions and the necessity of what you are asking. Do you really believe I am that naive? That I would not research this myself? What you
are doing is going outside of tradition. Arranged marriages were never meant merely as business contracts. They were meant to provide the best possible
match for our country, as well as the most compatible mates for the individuals
involved. You should never have turned this into an open
function. Last night was a
disgrace! And the final decision was
not and will never be yours to make. It
is MINE! And I will tell you right now that I will NOT accept anyone
here." He slapped his hand down sharply
on the folders lying on the table in front of him, and a number of the advisors
winced again.
In a quiet, cold voice his mother said, "We have been
through this. You must have a wife and
you must have an heir."
Hadji stared at her for a long time. It was a contest of wills, and everyone in
the room held their breath, waiting to see who would win. Finally, he responded, his tone soft but
somehow menacing. "No, I do not need an
heir. I do, however, need a
successor. Shall I name one,
Mother? That would certainly resolve
the problem."
There was a collective gasp from around the table and his
mother's face paled slightly. "The
Sultancy has been in your family for hundreds of years. You cannot do this."
"Then do not push me. I have not said I will not
take a wife . . . only that I will not take one in this manner or one that is
unacceptable to me." He looked around
the table. "I will be leaving soon. While I am gone, I will make arrangements to
complete my education. I will endeavor
to do this as quickly as possible. Upon
graduation I will return here permanently. Understand that I do not do this willingly . . . nor am I happy to be
leaving my family in America. But I do
understand my duties and responsibilities.
"While I finish my studies, I will actively search for a
wife, and will be willing to meet with anyone you find that you feel might be a
reasonable possibility. But understand
that this is to be done with decorum and respect, and in accordance with the
traditions of our country. This is NOT a business transaction and the
woman is NOT a commodity to be
bought and sold. She will be my partner
in all things and she will be my lifemate. And in the end, the final decision whether or not to marry will be hers and
mine alone."
Hadji rose and moved to the door of the chamber. Then he turned back and looked at
Neela. "I am aware, Mother, that you
have no desire to be left to rule this country should something happen to
me. You have served Bangalore
faithfully through some of its most difficult times with strength and loyalty,
and I believe that you have earned the right to step aside when you
choose. Therefore, I ask this council
to provide me with recommendations for suitable successors. Until such time that I find a wife and
produce an heir, it is prudent to have someone designated to succeed me in the
unlikely event of my death. It will
ensure stability and will provide for the best interests of the people. I will want to see your list of potential
candidates by the first of next week. So . . . if there is nothing else . . .?" Slowly, one by one, everyone around the table shook their head.
Finally, with the barest hint of pride in her voice, Neela
responded softly, "It will be as you command, Your Excellency," and she bowed
her head to him.
With great dignity, Hadji nodded at them and responded, "I
thank you for your time." And then he
was gone.
***
"I said NO,
Jessica!"
"PLEASE, Mom! I won't take long. I just need to talk to Hadji for a few minutes. It's really, really important."
Race and Estella had been in their tent when Jessie arrived,
asking to use the mobile phone to make a transcontinental call to
Bangalore. Estella had worked late in
the tomb and had just finished cleaning up. She was tired and hungry and had initially been a little short tempered
with her daughter's request. It was the
first time Race had seen Estella since that morning, and he had been trying to
figure out how to approach the topic of conversation he needed to discuss, when
Jessie had come looking for them. She
was upset and Race could tell at a glance that she had been crying.
Her mother looked at her with exasperation. "Jessie, the phone is funded by the
dig. It would be an inappropriate use
of the funding agency's money to allow you to use it to make phone calls to
your friends. You have your computer
uplink. Surely you can reach Hadji via
e-mail."
"But I would pay the grant project back for the phone
call. Please, Mom, please. This isn't something I can do via
e-mail. And I really, really need to talk to Hadji."
Race looked at his daughter in sympathy. If she needed to call Hadji that badly there
could be only one reason why . . . she wanted to talk with him about
Jonny. He had been right, the
separation was eating at her. And he
also knew that Estella was not in a position to be able to give in on this
one. "Tell you what, Ponchita. I need to go into 'civilization' tomorrow to
get supplies. Why don't you come along
and we'll find a phone you can use there. Going through an international operator will allow you to bill it back
to the phones at home, so the grant project isn't impacted and you can talk
with him as long as you like. Considering the time difference, you'll probably have better luck
getting him then anyway. He's most
likely in meetings and stuff right now."
Jessie had reluctantly agreed and had finally left. As she watched her daughter go, Estella just
shook her head. "I don't know what's
gotten into that girl recently."
Race chuckled. "She's in love."
"That's no excuse."
"Oh, come on, Estella. Neither one of us are so old that we can't remember what it was like to
be separated when we really didn't want to be. And you were the one who pointed out to me that they were in love not so
many months ago. You were supportive
then . . . cut her a little slack. She'll live through it. And I
doubt that Benton's having it any easier with Jonny."
Estella leaned back in her chair and looked at him for a
long moment. Suddenly, she
grinned. "What a change! A year ago you were telling me you couldn't
stand to even hear it and now you're lecturing me on cutting them some slack."
"Hear what?"
"That the two of them were in love."
Race sighed. "Well,
it's not like we can do anything about it."
Estella laughed. "Like you'd even want to. I know
you too well, Race Bannon. Nothing
thrilled you more than when those two finally took an interest in each
other. Jonny has always been the son
you never had." She stopped, as a
strange look passed over his face. "What?"
Race looked at her quietly for a minute, then took a deep
breath and said, "I got to thinking about something this morning, and it's been
bothering me ever since."
"What?"
"I never thought about . . . I mean, I haven't . . . Are you
. . . " He trailed off, at a loss as to how to ask the question.
"What?!"
"Are you using some kind of protection?"
She looked at him, completely bewildered. "Protection against what?"
"Getting pregnant."
The blank look on her face told him all he needed to know.
"Oh, surely I couldn't be . . . " and she stopped, looking
at him with growing horror. Her voice
was a whisper as she said, "Oh, God, I never even thought about it."
He shook his head. "Neither did I. I can't believe
I could have been this stupid!" He rose
abruptly to his feet and began to pace, while Estella sat there, white and
shaken. He looked at her again. "You're late, aren't you?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"How late?"
She put a hand to her head, trying to think. "Two weeks, maybe three. I've been somewhat irregular the last
several months, but I haven't had the opportunity to see a doctor about
it." She looked at him and he could see
a shadow of fear in her eyes. "What are
we going to do?"
The look on her face and the fear in her eyes cut through
him like a knife. What was he
thinking? He crossed and knelt in front
of her. Catching her face in his hands
he looked deeply into her eyes. "Estella, it's okay. Don't be
frightened." He grasped her shoulders
and drew her against him. He could feel
her shaking as he held her close, stroking her hair gently. "I never meant for this to happen. I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful."
She clung to him, feeling lost and frightened. His strength and steadiness were infinitely
comforting. How could she have let this
happen? She was old enough to know
better. But was she really? The thought came to her unbidden. The truth was that she wasn't very worldly
about this particular subject. Since
their divorce she had never bothered with any kind of contraception . . . she'd
had no need for it. And when they began
sleeping together again, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Why?
she asked herself. Why didn't I take precautions? She remembered the first time they had made love again. He had aroused in her something she had
thought long dead. She had been forced
to assess her feelings about him closely, and she had discovered that he was still her husband. It didn't matter that they had been divorced
for over ten years. When she had
married him, she had vowed to "love, honor and cherish" him for life. And through it all, she had continued to do
so. She had dated in the intervening
years, sometimes quite seriously. But
she had never considered remarrying, and she had never gone to bed with anyone
else. The desire hadn't been
there. It seemed the only person who
could arouse those feelings in her was Race. With that realization came another . . . she wanted this child. There was a joy rising in her that she
couldn't squelch. They had once again
created life together, and she found herself overjoyed at the idea.
"What we're going to do is very simple," he continued. "We'll have this child and raise it, just
like we did Jessie." She could hear the
sudden smile in his voice. "I don't
think we did too badly the first time through." He gently pushed her away from him and looked at her. "You could never terminate the pregnancy and
I wouldn't want you to." He smiled at
her gently. "I certainly didn't plan
for this and if you had asked me, I would have told you that I didn't need
another child. But I love you,
Estella. And I will love any child born out of the bond between
us."
"But . . . but what about my work? And this dig? And . . .
and . . ."
Race placed his fingers over her mouth gently and shook his
head. "Now is not the time to struggle
with those questions. Right now we both
need to let this sink in a little and give ourselves some time to think.
Okay?" He looked at her and what he saw
made his throat close up and his eyes sting. She loved him too . . . he could see it in her eyes. And in that instant, Race knew that whatever
the future held in store, they would face it together. Everything would work out just fine . . .