21…
Portland, Oregon
Providence St. Vincent Hospital
January 12, 1998
James stood near the window of the waiting room, overlooking a grassy lawn with picnic tables. He frowned. Who had picnics at a hospital?
“We should be doing this at the lab.” A feminine voice drifted through the wall of his thoughts. He turned.
“We aren’t equipped to deal with this kind of complication.” He responded, adjusting the collar of his polyester shirt and tie. The shirt was white, the tie a dark shade of green. Meredith had picked them out this morning, before he left for work. Normally she had his clothes laid out for him before he went to sleep the night before. They’d gotten a little bit distracted last night, however. He’d thought the distraction would be worth being a few minutes late to work. He hadn’t realized work wouldn’t wait.
“Caesarean sections are messy, but they aren’t that complicated. We could have brought in a specialist. We had someone on call—”
“I didn’t want to risk it, Marilynda.” James replied, running a hand through his dark brown hair. A few gray hairs had started to grow in near his temple, adding a bit of maturity to his still boyish face. He was past thirty, but he didn’t look it. He’d even gotten carded the month before when he’d tried to buy wine for his and Meredith’s second wedding anniversary.
“There’s nothing to risk. We have other hosts and multiple fetuses to choose from. Probably less troublesome ones.” She replied.
James turned away from the window to get a look at her. Marilynda sat straight-backed on the sofa, her legs crossed at the knee, a tight pencil skirt hugging her thighs. She wore a pink satin blouse, three buttons undone at her neck to reveal several inches of cleavage. She caught him looking and narrowed her eyes. “Hungry?” she asked in a low voice.
James clenched his jaw. “Stop it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I just asked if you were hungry.”
“I told you, Marley. It’s over.” He snapped, crossing his arms and turning back to the window. “Meredith and I are married now. I’m not that kind of man.”
“What kind of man?” she inquired, the worn-out couch giving a small squeak as she rose.
“The kind that cheats on his wife.” He responded tightly.
“Fine. Good.” She said, pressing her lips together. They were stained red with lipstick, her green eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. “It’s nice to finally work with a man who has morals, not just pants.”
James scoffed, shaking his head. “Nice one,” he sent her a sideways glance. “Did you come here just to compliment me, or were you intending to do your job?”
Marley shrugged. “Both?”
Before James could respond, a man in blue scrubs entered the waiting room and called out for a Mr. Whitman.
“I’m James Whitman,” James said, coming forward to shake the man’s hand.
“I’m Dr. Peterson. I’m the surgeon who worked on your wife this morning.” The man said, relinquishing his grip on James’ hand. “Everything went really well. The baby is healthy as far as we can tell. Apgar’s about a nine, and that’s really good. We’re weighing him now.”
James nodded, a sigh of relief escaping him. He hadn’t realized he’d been worried until that moment. Just as Marley had said, there were other fetuses. There were other hosts. This one shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
“She’s not my wife,” he found himself saying the words without meaning to. They could think she was his wife. It didn’t really matter. And yet, somehow it did.
Dr. Peterson raised his eyebrows. “Oh. I’m sorry. What is your relationship with Ms. Graham?” he acted surprised, as if the difference of surnames hadn’t already tipped him off.
“She’s my sister.” James lied.
Dr. Peterson nodded. “Sorry.” he said, smiling as he patted James’ shoulder. “Congratulations. You’re an uncle.”
“When can I see her?” James asked, ignoring the man’s well-wishes.
“It will be a couple of hours before the anesthesia wears off. But you can see the baby,” Dr. Peterson offered. “They should be taking him to the nursery right now.”
James nodded and followed the man behind a set of double doors and down several long hallways. The infant nursery was on the other side of the ward from the delivery rooms, so that the sound of the babies crying wouldn’t keep the mothers from resting. They walked for about five minutes before Dr. Peterson turned a corner and a large window came into view.
James approached the glass, coming to stand beside Dr. Peterson. Marley came up behind them both. She’d followed them there, seemingly unnoticed by the medical professional.
“There he is,” Dr. Peterson pointed to a small infant-sized bed close to the window.
James followed the man’s finger and caught sight of a tiny body swaddled in a blue blanket. He sucked in a quick breath. There it was. The child they had waited nine months for. A small patch of dark hair curled at the top of his forehead, his tiny eyes wide open as they stared up at James. His eyes were blue, just like his mother’s.
“Beautiful kid,” Dr. Peterson said, nodding his head. “Real smart, too. Look at those eyes. I call them soul-pluckers.”
“Soul-pluckers?” Marley repeated incredulously.
Dr. Peterson’s head hadn’t stopped bobbing. “Yep. They pluck at your soul. Like they know what’s going on. Like they understand.”
“Nonsense. Infants can’t even control depth perception until months after they’re born.” Marley countered, shaking her head.
“And you are?” Dr. Peterson raised his eyebrow as he asked the question.
“I’m his sister,” she responded, jerking her thumb at James.
“Right.” Dr. Peterson said dryly, completely unconvinced.
James chuckled. “She inherited the Italian genes.” He stated. Marley’s darker skin and curly hair didn’t resemble James’ pale skin tone or straight locks in the least. But it was a lie that went unchallenged.
“Alrighty then,” Dr. Peterson said, rubbing his palms together. “Well, I’ll leave you two to admire nature’s handiwork while I go make my rounds. See y’all in a bit.” He walked off whistling a James Taylor song, his sneakers squeaking against the tile floors.
“He does look intelligent.” James mentioned, his eyes trained on the infant.
“Of course he does. We engineered him that way.” Marley stated. “When will we take him back to the lab?”
James frowned. This wasn’t like getting a puppy from the pet store. They couldn’t just wean it from its mother’s milk and then take it home. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.” He replied slowly.
“What do you mean?” Marley asked suspiciously.
“I mean this kid isn’t just the manifestation of five years of work, Marley. There are other variables involved.”
“She went back on her word, didn’t she?” Marley demanded incredulously.
“It’s not like that. She wants to discuss the options.” James said.
“What options? She doesn’t have options, James. This child isn’t hers. She’s a host, for god’s sake.” Marley snapped, crossing her arms. The pressure elevated her bosom and increased the amount of cleavage visible through the top of her shirt. “Paternal and maternal genes are from other sources. She has no relationship to the fetus other than that of a host.”
“The incubation period can get personal, Marley. You’re a woman. You should understand that.” James snapped, agitated by her lack of open-mindedness. Or maybe it was compassion that she lacked.
Marley narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t be a sexist ass.” She retorted. “I’ve never had children, nor do I intend to. I care about my career, not my feelings. You should too.”
James shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
“I knew it was a bad idea to use her as a host. I knew you were too close. I knew it would get in the way of this project!” she hissed angrily.
James turned toward her, straightening his shoulders and raising himself to his full height. “You can’t be serious.”
“No, you can’t be serious. You’re willing to risk your job so that that woman can go back on the contract she signed with our company!”
“I am not!” James exclaimed sharply, raising his voice. One of the nurses poked her head up from behind the nursing station to glare at him. He waved at her apologetically. Turning back to Marley, he sighed. “She wants the first twelve months. That’s all. After that, she’ll distance herself.”
“What do you mean she wants the first twelve months? The first year is crucial!” Marley replied intensely.
“She just wants to be involved. Besides,” he glanced back at the infant. Its wide, blue eyes were still staring at him. “Infants that ingest their mother’s breast milk are healthier and more intelligent than formula-fed infants.”
“Uninfluenced development, remember, James? No outside influences to corrupt the gene transitioning. That is essential for this project to be successful. We can’t have anyone interfering with that. Not even the host.” Marley stated, shaking her head.
“She feels like his mother.” James said softly, tucking his hands in his pockets.
“Well she isn’t.” Marley responded quietly. “And you don’t owe her anything. She signed a contract, James. She had no ownership of the fetus to begin with. It’s made from our materials, our modifications, and it is our property.”
James scratched his forehead with a sigh. “You’re right. I’ll tell her when she wakes up.” He said.
“Don’t let it get personal, James. If we let it get personal, the project will never be successful.” Marley gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Think of the greater good, James. Think of why we’re doing this.”
James nodded. “I know.” He said. The baby was still staring at him. He gave it a small smile and tapped the glass. The child whimpered softly, tiny fists pushing at the blanket from inside its swaddling-cocoon. “We’ll bring it back to the lab tonight.” He said, already imagining the conversation he would have with Dr. Peterson. It would be a difficult argument, but he could swing it. He’d done it before.
Marley nodded, adjusting her blouse. “Good. I’ve got quite a few tests I want to run before this week is up. The first twenty-four-hours are essential. I need to start recording cell-growth immediately.”
James nodded, turning away from the glass and heading back to the waiting room. He checked his watch. It had already been a half an hour since he talked to the doctor. Another few hours and he would have the infant back at the lab.
That’s where it started, and that’s where it belonged.
Unfortunately, his 'sister' wasn’t going to like it one bit. She would probably cry. But he wouldn’t let that faze him. Not after five years. She had volunteered to help him, not hinder his company’s project. Marley was right. He couldn’t let this get personal. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way.
Not after everything. Not when he was so close to getting all the answers he’d been searching for. Just a few more tests, and all this would be worth it.
Just a few more tests.
_
_
_
Eastern Oregon
November, 2014
James stared at the canvas, the bright oil paints smeared over the surface forming a face. It was as indistinct as the features of a cloud, but he could detect it, nonetheless.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” Pam asked, entering the art studio with two coffee mugs in her hands. “I keep trying to convince her to take a class, but she won’t do it.”
“She’s stubborn.” James replied, gratefully taking the cup of coffee from her. He took a sip and frowned. “This isn’t coffee.”
“Chocolate milk,” Pam told him absently as she leaned closer to the painting. “All the talented ones are.”
James raised a brow. “Chocolate milk?” he asked incredulously.
“Stubborn.” Pam corrected. “Think of Van Gogh, Picasso, Leonardo Dicaprio,”
“You mean Da Vinci.” James said dryly.
“Yeah, him too,” Pam nodded and gulped down whatever was in her glass.
“Sometimes it’s really hard to talk to you.” James said with a small sigh. He set his glass down on the windowsill and lowered himself onto the bench. Pale, early morning light wafted into the studio, stifling the bright colors with a dull, gray hue.
Pam straightened; her back toward him as she stared at one of Lisa’s other paintings. “Why did you bring him here, James?” she asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“Why here.” She repeated.
“It’s safe here.” He responded stiffly. “They don’t have this address on file.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She said softly.
James nodded, even though she couldn’t see. “I know what you mean.”
Pamela turned around. “Why did you do it?” she asked, a familiar pain etched across her features. He’d seen it before, that day at the hospital, when he’d denied her the only thing she’d ever asked him for.
“Why did you let us come?” he countered softly.
“You had nowhere else to go. And…” she sniffed quietly. “And…”
“And you wanted to see him.” He finished for her.
Pam nodded. “Yes. I wanted to see him.”
“He isn’t yours, Pamela. He never was.”
Pam smiled a strange, sad smile. “You think I don’t know that, James. But I’ve been saying those words over and over again in my head for the last sixteen years. I know he isn’t mine. He isn’t anyone’s.”
“Then why does it bother you having him here?” James asked.
“It doesn’t,” Pam insisted quickly. “Having him here doesn’t bother me at all. Seeing what you’ve done to him—that’s what bothers me, James. That’s what hurts. Seeing the way you’ve broken him. Seeing the way he hides from you and from everyone. Seeing the way that you hide from him.” She shook her head and let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “The two of you are so alike.”
“I don’t see that.” James responded sharply, getting to his feet.
“Just like a crazy person doesn’t know they’re crazy, and a sane person doesn’t know they’re sane. A broken person often doesn’t know how broken they are until they’re ready to heal.” Pam shrugged. “You just aren’t ready.”
“Thanks Dr. Phil. I’ll remember that during my next yoga class.” James replied sarcastically as he approached the door.
Much to his surprise, Pamela stepped in front of the doorway. “When are you planning on taking him back to the lab?” she asked.
“We can’t. The lab is gone. He destroyed it.” James answered before he remembered to lie.
“What do you mean?” Pam’s eyes widened.
“Roy has some…unusual...abilities.”
“Of course he does. Why else would you have made him in the first place?” Pam suddenly snapped. “I want to know what you’ve been hiding from me since you got here. I want to know the truth.”
James shook his head. “I’ve told you everything.”
“You’ve told me nothing.”
“I’ve told you everything you need to know.” He responded as he pushed passed her.
“I want to know, James. I want to know about him. You owe me that much.” She said to his back.
James stopped, her words twisting his emotions in a highly unpleasant fashion. Slowly, he turned back around to face her. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. He wondered how she’d been able to hold them back all this time. He had been there almost a week, and this was the first time she’d brought up the past. He knew how much restraint that had required.
“You never asked me any questions before.” He said.
She nodded. “I didn’t want to know. I mean,” she took in a shaky breath. “I always wanted to know about him. But I couldn’t move on if I…if I didn’t move on.”
James leaned his shoulder against the wall. “You haven’t moved on. Or you wouldn’t be asking.”
“I tried.” She insisted. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose something so…”
“Precious?” he tried.
“He was a part of me, James. Not even you can reason that away.” Pam insisted. “Did you know I used to hear him crying at night?”
James maintained an aloof posture. He knew it had been difficult for her. But he didn’t want to bring up the past. There was no point.
“I have dreamt about him almost every night for sixteen years, James. Since the day you took him away. That’s why I let you come here. And that’s why I didn’t say anything until now. I couldn’t risk you taking him away from me again. But you keep him locked in his room. And you won’t let him talk to me.”
“It’s for the best.” James insisted.
“No it isn’t!” Pamela cried, shaking her head.
James glanced toward the stairs. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want to have to explain this conversation to anyone else.” He stated.
“Let me get to know him, James. Let me talk to him. That’s all I ask.” She begged, hugging herself to hold back her tears. “Please.”
James shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair. There was very little brown left amidst all the silver. Usually he looked older than he felt. Right now, the opposite was true. He felt much old than he looked.
“I can’t, Pamela. I can’t let anything get in the way of the progress he has just started to make.” James insisted.
“What progress? What are you talking about, James?” Pam demanded, throwing up her hands. The liquid in her mug sloshed all over the floor. She ignored it completely. “Tell me!”
James shook his head and turned away from her, heading up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” she cried, standing with her arms held out to her sides.
“To wake Lisa. It’s almost nine. She should be up by now.” He told her, climbing the stairs two at a time in spite of his injured leg. His departure from the living room actually had nothing to do with Lisa. He’d just wanted to get away from Pam as soon as possible—her and the conversation. He knew there was no way she would let the subject drop, but he wouldn’t be explaining things to her either. There was no way he would tell her about Roy. No one needed to know any more than they already did.
When he reached the top of the stairs, James took a second to get back his breath before knocking on Lisa’s door. No one answered.
“Lisa, it’s your father. Are you awake?” he called through the door.
Silence.
“Lisa,” he pushed open the door and saw nothing but an empty room. Brow furrowed, James went down the hall and checked Pamela’s bedroom and then the bathroom. They were both empty.
“Dammit,” he uttered the word under his breath and he pushed open the door to Roy’s room, expecting to see them both in there again. But that room was empty too.
Hurrying back down the stairs, James canvased the house, searching for the two missing teenagers. They were nowhere to be found. Fuming, James glanced over and saw Pamela out on the deck. Yanking open the sliding glass door, he stepped outside and into the morning chill. “Where are they?” he demanded, limping toward her angrily.
“What are you talking about?” Pamela demanded with a furrowed brow.
“Where the hell are Lisa and Roy?” he snapped.
“I have no idea,” Pam responded in a breath, shaking her head. Her dark blue eyes were as wide as saucers. “I thought they were sleeping.”
James pressed his lips together, trying to keep calm. “They aren’t in the house.”
“Maybe they took a walk,” she suggested.
“They better not have heard us,” he snarled.
Pam rolled her eyes and walked passed him, back into the house. “They couldn’t have gotten far. Let me get dressed and I’ll find them.”
“I told him to stay in that room, dammit!” James growled.
“He’s just a kid,” Pam insisted, tossing her bathrobe on the back of the couch before heading up the stairs toward her bedroom.
James shook his head as he watched her go. “No,” he said quietly. “He is so much more than that.”
_______________________________________________
A/N
Alright. So, now you have seen a little bit of the past. What do you think?
Leave me comments with your thoughts, if you please! I love hearing what you guys think! And please vote if you like this story and/or this chapter!
Thanks so much, guys!