Chapter 40
The hours passed by unnoticed as Charles sifted through information he had gathered over the years. He paused when one trembling hand retrieved an article clipped from the local paper many years ago. It was faded, yellow around the edges, and brittle with age, but the woman in the picture would forever be remembered with crystal clear clarity.
The newspaper photographer hadn't done her justice, he thought, and his fingers shook as they brushed over her features. Even now he could remember her excitement the day the article had been released in the society pages and immediately on the heels of that memory came the one of her expression the day she had begged him to let her in, to let her help him deal with his obsession.
He had been blinded by his obsession, unable to let her or anyone else help him, and he had taken her pleas as criticism. He had turned on her, blaming her for trying to confuse him and keeping him from finding the evidence he needed so badly; he had refused to see reason and he had turned his back on her and never spoken to her again.
That had been nearly five years after their engagement had been announced and looking back on it now he was able to recall the difference that those five years had made. His obsession had all but drained every spark of life out of her and she had held on to the belief that he loved her more than his truth that had taken over every aspect of his life. For five years she had harbored that hope and he knew she had tried to the best of her ability to help him.
She had tried to contact him over the years but he had spurned every attempt she made, letting his obsession for the truth blind him. Over the years he had changed from an intense young man in love with life and his fiancé and ready to conquer the world, into a cold, hateful, obsessed man, bitter about everything and living in seclusion.
He slid the article aside to look at the one below it and his vision blurred as moisture filled his eyes. Another article, this one much smaller and almost clinical in nature, had been clipped from the obituary section of the newspaper. How was it possible to sum up the life of such a vibrant woman with just a few dozen words?
She had never married, never had children, and she had gone to her grave still loving him. He had received a letter from her, mailed by her lawyer after her death, but at the time he had read it and carelessly tossed it aside, putting it away with all of the other bits and pieces of information he had collected about her over the years.
In the letter she had wished him well and expressed her hope that he would find peace. Near the end she had urged him to meet with her lawyer and something inside that he had thought long-dead had insisted that he not deny her that one thing. He had complied with her wish and learned that her final wish was for him to be buried in the plot next to hers when his time came to an end. When the lawyer had told him she had purchased the plots together he hadn't understood, but the man had simply smiled and given him another note from her. He had stormed out of the law office and gone home with the express intent of getting so drunk he wouldn't remember the day or that last note.
Unfortunately, it had been the first thing on his fuzzy brain the next day when he had emerged from his alcohol-induced state. She had been an optimist; she had romanticized things, insisted that good could be found in everything, and he had callously destroyed her and left her to live her life alone. Her reason for buying the plot next to hers and asking him to accept it had been completely illogical as far as he was concerned. But, now that he thought about it, that was so her. She was a strange one and always had been, even in death; she had hoped that he would find peace in life, but if not, she was certain that he would find it in the afterlife and they could be together for eternity.
Regrets were a bitch to live with, he thought as he stared at the papers strewn out across the desk. Oh, he had proof now… confirmation that he wasn't insane… and he had no one to share it with. On the one hand he felt vindicated and on the other hand he felt… empty. His entire life had been dedicated to chasing a truth that he was never meant to find - that truth had been meant to find him, and in a way he never could've imagined. There was no way to deny that the young man shared his DNA; there were too many similarities to be ignored. His facial features, his eyes, his physical build, and his attitude, that was all him.
It hadn't been difficult to see the tension between the couple; it was obvious that they weren't together, but given the slightest encouragement at the right moment they'd be all over each other. The young man was driven though, and he was the love-'em-and-leave-'em type, he wasn't interested in anything else, and he was too stubborn to consider the possibilities.
Charles gently brushed his fingertips over the article again. He had to talk to Michael again. He couldn't change his past, he couldn't fix his mistakes, but maybe he could help his… What? Son? Grandson? He didn't know, but maybe he could help him avoid some of those dangerous pitfalls he himself had been too blind to see.
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Michael knocked on Maria's door the next morning, impatient to get on the road and put as many miles as possible between him and Charles Dupree. He shoved his way in just as soon as the door was unlocked and his dark gaze raked over Maria's body, annoyed when he realized that she wasn't dressed to leave.
"I told you we were gonna leave this mornin'," he snapped, dropping his bag on the floor and prowling around the room.
Maria had been peacefully sleeping before he had so rudely interrupted her rest by pounding on the door at… she glanced at the clock on the nightstand and then glared at him. "Michael, it's barely seven o'clock."
"And?"
"And, I'm going back to bed." She ignored his irritated denial and brushed past him, crawling back in the bed and snuggling up under the covers.
"This isn't up for discussion, Maria."
"Good." She burrowed down deeper under the heavy comforter and settled back into the warm spot she had vacated when her uninvited guest had announced his presence.
Sometimes Michael really questioned why he let her get away with things like this. He was showered, packed, and ready to go, but was he going anywhere? No. No, he was being ignored while she went back to sleep. He seriously considered grabbing the blankets and jerking them off of her, but changed his mind when he decided that it wasn't worth the hell she'd put him through later.
Instead he settled down on the other side of the bed and snatched up a couple of pillows, stacking them behind him and flopping back. Even with all of his moving around Maria didn't stir or move so much as an inch. So much for getting an early start, he thought, but he wasn't as annoyed as he had been a few minutes earlier. Maybe he'd just rest his eyes for a few minutes and then attempt to get her out of bed again.
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A couple of hours later the ringing telephone woke him up and he blinked as he tried to bring his bleary gaze into focus. He pushed himself up into a sitting position when he realized that Maria wasn't in bed any longer and he heard the shower running. It was shut off as he reached for the phone, jerking the receiver up and bringing it up to his ear. "What?" he growled.
"Is this Michael Guerin?"
His sleepy brain didn't register who the voice belonged to. "Who wants to know?"
"Charles Dupree, you little ingrate," the old man muttered.
"What d'you want?"
"I need to see the two of you again."
"Michael, who're you talking to?" Maria asked as she stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe.
"No one," he said, glancing at her before turning his attention back to the man on the other end of the phone. "We're not interested; we're leavin' within the hour, so you're outta - "
Maria snatched the phone out of his hand when she realized who he was talking to. "Charles, I'm so glad you called," she said in greeting. She glared at Michael and shook her head when he motioned for her to end the call. "No, no, we'd be happy to come out and visit with you this afternoon."
"I'm not gonna go see him again, Maria."
"Yes, you are." She dropped the receiver back on the hook and turned to look at him.
Michael frowned and shook his head. "No, I'm not." His attention was momentarily diverted when he noticed the plate of donuts on the table. "Where'd you get donuts?"
"I ordered them from room service; I figured you'd want something to munch on when you woke up."
"They're the kind with the raspberry fillin' inside?" he asked, already making his way towards the table.
Maria rolled her eyes as she went back into the dressing area to dry her hair and finish getting ready. She didn't know why he had even asked. He was getting spoiled and she knew it was her fault; he wouldn't even eat donuts anymore unless they were glazed, dusted with powdered sugar, and had raspberry filling in the center.
Michael had worked his way through three donuts and was contemplating a fourth when she came back into the room. "We should be in Santa Fe by early evening, so - "
"We're not heading out to Santa Fe until we've met with Charles."
"Maria, I don't wanna see him again. It's a waste of time!" He started to pace, already getting worked up again.
"Hey, look, how about a compromise, huh? We go see Charles and in exchange - "
He pounced on that. "We have sex?" He hadn't had sex in longer than he cared to think about. Please, God, let her say yes!
Maria almost laughed at his enthusiastic tone; she had just known he was going to ask that. "Good try, but, no."
"For fuck's sake, Maria," he huffed irritably. "Can I at least get a backrub out of it?"
"I'll agree to that. As tense as you are, you need it."
"No shirt… skin to skin contact."
"Yes, if it'll get you to go and visit with Charles, I'll agree to that." She grinned at his self-satisfied smirk. "It will not lead to sex though, so you might as well rein your imagination in." As soon as he scowled she knew that was exactly where his mind had been.
"Like I care," he said, shrugging carelessly. "I'm gonna hit the bar with Indigo when we get to Santa Fe anyway; trust me, there are plenty of women there who'll be ready and willin' to give me what I want. You don't get to ruin my plans to get laid this time," he said, enjoying having the upper hand for once. "You're not invited to go out with us."
Maria seethed internally at his offhanded comment. We'll just see about that, she thought with a frown. "We should get going."
Michael grinned and grabbed another donut. "Let's go."
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Maria glanced between the two silent men after several minutes passed without a single word being spoken. It was just her luck to find herself in the position of trying to get the two most stubborn men on the planet to carry on a conversation.
"Maybe this would be easier if the two of you were alone for a while," she said finally.
"Alone?" Charles parroted.
"Why?"
Of course Michael was immediately suspicious of her motives. "I just thought it'd be a little easier for you guys to talk if I'm not around."
Huh-uh, no way was she gonna abandon him and leave him stuck with this ancient replica of himself. He had never been comfortable with people in general, but old people just really made him uncomfortable. He had never had any expectation of reaching old age anyway, so what was the point of spending time with them and learning about their lives or their past experiences? "This was your idea, Maria; you're not bailin' on me."
Maria sighed. Was Michael resisting because he was afraid that he might come to respect Charles, the man who was in some way, his father? Was he trying to avoid forming any attachment to him? Well, if that was the case, he had better think again. If she was here to help Michael learn to care about humans, to save humanity from annihilation at Khivar's hands at some point in the future, then he was going to start with Charles Dupree. "I'm not bailing on you, but we're not accomplishing anything by sitting here without speaking."
"The girl's right," Charles said as he levered himself to his feet. "Why don't the two of us take a walk?"
"I don't take orders from you, old man," Michael snarled.
Maria's tone took on a harsh edge as her anger with him moved up a notch and she practically roared, "Michael!"
Michael turned to look at her, his rigid posture showing that he was just as angry as she was. "What? I've made it this far without him - "
Charles Dupree had watched them argue back and forth, but the young man's declaration had him seeing red and his voice was filled with venom when he spoke. "Just like the rest of your race, aren't you? Take what you need and throw the rest away. Nothin' but a bunch of manipulative, vicious - "
"Hey, don't lump me in with the rest of the aliens," Michael interrupted. "I'm not the one that did that stuff to you."
The two men glared at each other for several long seconds before Maria nudged the hybrid and he turned on her.
"What?"
"Go talk to him," she growled.
"Why the fuck do I need to go…" His voice trailed off as he looked into her green eyes and he growled under his breath when he saw the trust shining in them… trust that he would make the right choice.
"Michael."
"Fine, I'm goin'," he muttered as he stood up. "Happy now?"
"Ecstatic," she muttered under her breath.