Ashes in the Sky Page 2

  No, Elaine. We would definitely not be talking about this later.

  2

  I leaned back on the headrest as we pulled out of the school parking lot. The smell of vanilla filtered from the cardboard air freshener on the dashboard, easing my mind and relaxing my muscles. Thank goodness, Dad went home and got the car. I didn’t want to see another limousine in, like, ever.

  My first day back had been a total bust. I didn’t even get to go to any classes. After the assembly, Elaine had whisked me off to a dull brunch with the superintendent and a bunch of other people who obviously thought pigs in a blanket and posing for pictures were more important than me getting an education. I was so over all the attention.

  “I have a surprise,” Dad said, stopping at a red light. “The Bakers have put together a welcome home party for you.”

  Party? Not cool. “Dad, I just want to go home.”

  He glanced in my direction, and then back to the road. “Maggie has been planning this for a week. And you know how Maggie is.”

  I sure did. A smile burst across my lips. I would have loved to spend the afternoon with Maggs, but I could do without the politics of her father, the general. Last time I was in his house, I had an alien in tow. A few days later, all heck broke loose and humanity almost got wiped off the face of the earth. For some reason, I didn’t think that made me General Baker’s favorite person. Not that I ever was, I guess.

  “Let’s just go for a little while,” Dad said. “We don’t have to stay late.”

  Yeah, I should have expected that response. Major Dad wouldn’t want to decline a dinner invitation from the boss now, would he?

  Maggie’s father was fond of my dad, and the general always pulled strings to get Dad transferred with him. We’d followed the Baker’s through the last three reassignments. Moving so much was hard on the other kids, but not for Maggie and me. We’d become like sisters.

  We pulled up to the Baker’s house, and Maggie bounded from the front door, nearly plowing me over with a hug.

  “Look at you, girl,” she said. “It looks like you haven’t seen a good bar of chocolate in a month. We definitely need to do something about that.”

  I held her for an extra few seconds.

  She tightened her grip before stepping away. “Have you heard from him?”

  I didn’t have to ask who him was.

  David was the do-all-and-end-all of everything. One guy with the fate of two species hanging on his ability to breathe life into a dead planet. He’d convinced the Erescopians to move to Mars instead of Earth. Now he had to make good on his claims that he could make that tiny red dot in the sky habitable. No pressure or anything. I was sure calling a mere human girl was the last thing on his mind.

  I pulled back that pesky, dark bang that always managed to fly into my face. “No. I haven’t heard a thing.”

  She squeezed my shoulder and gave one of those sucks to be you smiles before tugging me toward the house. The Baker’s place was like my second home. It was almost as if the general called out the Special Forces to pick up his old house and plop it down near whatever base he’d been transferred to. I swear it always looked the same. I loved it, though. It grounded me, and one thing we military brats needed was grounding.

  Mrs. Baker pushed open the door from the kitchen and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome back, Tom.” She turned to me and adjusted her apron over a straight skirt that ended just above the knee, looking every bit like Betty Crocker in the sixties reruns they used to show on Nickelodeon. “And Jess,” she raised her arms for a hug, “how are you holding up, sweetheart?”

  I folded into her embrace, and an unexpected pain scrunched my chest. Tears filled my eyes. Mrs. Baker had always been my second mom. After the car accident, she became my only mom. I suddenly felt safe, and everything I’d been holding inside exploded into a sob.

  “Count to thirty,” she whispered. “Keep a straight face.”

  That was the military-wife-training kicking in. Mom always denied Army wives were required to take good little wife classes, but I always saw her and Mrs. Baker keeping calm, no matter what. Did civilian husbands do the same thing for their officer-wives?

  She led me into the kitchen while Dad and General Baker shook hands in the living room. Three bars of dark chocolate and a handful of Cocoa-Puffs later, I’d stopped crying. Mrs. B was the best. I mean seriously, chocolate and Cocoa-Puffs? Before supper? Loved her!

  After I had dried my eyes, we sliced vegetables for dinner. I chopped huge, mangled hunks of carrots, smiling to myself as memories of David’s perfectly sliced, paper-thin carrots came to mind. It was only a few minutes after David and I had cut up vegetables for lunch that day when I finally found out my new friend wasn’t quite what I thought he was. That seemed like years ago already.

  Mrs. Baker tossed a spear of raw asparagus in the air, and Maggie caught it in her mouth. They both chuckled.

  The empty space in my heart warmed up. Everything about the Bakers reminded me of what home and family should be. I needed to get that back again. Dad had been great over the past few weeks, but I needed us to settle back in and be together. At home. I needed my life back. I wanted to be a teenager again.

  I said a quick prayer and continued praying through dinner, hoping a normal life was still an option for me.

  Maggie nudged my shoulder. “Help clear the dishes?”

  I nodded and wiped my mouth with a napkin. Before I could stand, the front door opened.

  My chest seized when Maggie’s brother walked in. He’d traded up his MP uniform for a neat, yellow polo shirt and tan khakis. It reminded me of the old days when we had dated. Funny, that also seemed like another lifetime ago.

  Bobby shook his father’s hand and sat between my dad and the general on the opposite side of the table—perfectly placed so I’d see his sparkling blue eyes every time I looked up.

  Dangit.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Bobby’s gaze fixed on me.

  “You’re just in time for dessert,” Mrs. Baker said.

  I grabbed my plate and stood, but it slipped out of my hand and shattered on the tiled floor. I stared at the broccoli intermingled between the shards of porcelain. What was wrong with me? I should have expected Bobby to be there. I guess my mind was in such a whirl that I hadn’t noticed his absence.

  I bent down to pick up the mess and got my hand slapped by Mrs. B. “You’re the guest of honor. Sit down. I’ll take care of this.”

  “But—”

  I got the finger.

  No, not that finger—the mother’s magic finger that points at you and turns you into a quiet little girl with her hands folded on her lap. Mrs. Baker had that one down to a science.

  A few minutes later, the table was clear, and Bobby hopped up to turn the lights down. Mood lighting at the Baker’s? That was something new.

  Maggie came out carrying a cake with enough candles on it to start a small house fire. I stared into the flickering flames. Visions of attacking spaceships, exploding jeeps, and fire shooting into the air filled my thoughts until the cake appeared in front of me, and I realized they had been singing Happy Birthday. Was it my birthday? What day was it?

  My heart raced and my senses numbed, just as they had that horrible night when I ran toward the chaos, even though my instincts screamed “run away.”

  A smack on my shoulder snapped me out of it.

  “Come on! Blow out the candles,” Maggie said, her grin as bright as ever.

  Oh yeah. Cake. Singing. Candles. I got this.

  I blew, and the candles’ glow winked into tendrils of smoke.

  Six million people died the night David’s people came to Earth. Six million lives eradicated in minutes. The destruction had been easy. Too easy. How close had the human race come to extinction? How close had I come to being swept away, purged, obliterated?

  The smoke lifted in fluttery wisps, reaching for the ceiling. I shifted in my seat. “I
t’s, umm, not my birthday.”

  Mrs. Baker slid the cake away from me and cut a piece. “No, but we missed your big day while you were away. No birthday goes uncelebrated in the Baker household.”

  Yep, like I said. Second Mom. She couldn’t care less what my last name was. In her mind, I was a Baker. Her kid. But if that were true, what did that make my dad? I shuddered. That was a one-way pass to Weirdsville.

  “So, Jess.” The general reached for his piece of cake. “Did you send in your application to West Point yet?”

  I cringed.

  “She sent it in over the summer,” Dad said. “Looks like she was accepted, too.”

  My jaw clenched. “You read my mail?”

  “Didn’t have to. Big envelopes mean acceptances. Small ones are bad news.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my damp hands across my thighs. West Point. My worst nightmare. All I wanted to do was get as far away from the military as possible, and Dad knew it, but he continued trying to force his dreams down my throat. When would he ever learn that—

  “I don’t think she’s going to West Point, though.”

  My gaze shot up. Huh?

  Dad handed me a big, thick envelope. “Happy birthday, Pequeña.”

  Sweating, I reached for the packet. Its contents weighed my hand down. Brochures. Folders. Thick, informational-like stuff. Shaking, I flipped the mailer over. My breath stitched as I read the return address. “Columbia?” My eyes teared. “How is this possible? I never applied.”

  Dad leaned his chin on folded fingers and smiled. “I found the application on your desk two months ago, along with your portfolio. I packed it up and sent it before I left for your press tour.” He nodded toward the envelope. “I found that in the mailbox when I went home this afternoon.”

  I brushed my thumb over the embossed logo. Part of me expected the letters to rub off as if it was forged, but they didn’t. “Are you serious? I can go to Columbia?”

  Dad shrugged. “I hear they have a pretty good photography department.”

  I dashed to the other side of the table and hugged him so tight I thought my arms would break. How long had we fought over this? How many times had he told me photography was a waste of time?

  Columbia! I couldn’t believe it!

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  He patted down my hair like I was a kid again. At that moment, I actually felt like one. “Just promise to stay behind the camera this time, and leave the saving the world to someone else.”

  I giggled and tightened my embrace. I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem. I had no plans of jumping under another alien death ray.

  Once the table was cleared, Maggie flipped on some music, threw me a towel, and started scrubbing a plate.

  Columbia! New York City! Not even the huge pile of dishes could yank me off that buzz.

  I hadn’t finished drying the first glass when a puff of wet bubbles sloshed onto my cheek.

  Maggie giggled, and I retaliated, whipping her with my towel. She screamed like a preschooler, wiping her wet hands across my shirt. Mrs. B. snorted as she took the glass from my hand and placed it in the cabinet.

  Laughing, I wiped the soap from my nose. Dad was right. This was exactly what I needed. Maybe life could return to normal.

  Maybe it already had.

  Maggie handed me the last plate and dried her hands. “I gotta pee.”

  “So classy,” I said.

  “Would you have it any other way?” Her curls bounced as she passed through the door.

  No. I guess I wouldn’t.

  “Mom?” Bobby’s voice called from the next room.

  I took the paper towels from Mrs. Baker. “I got this. Go ahead.”

  Her smile warmed me beyond measure, a combination of affection, gratitude, and serenity. God, I loved coming here.

  After wiping down the counters, I scooted out the back door and breathed in the night air. Autumn crispness tickled my cheeks as moonlight crept over the trees and cast a deep shadow across the swing set Mrs. Baker insisted on relocating with each base transfer. “Family stability,” she called it. Maggie and I had made fun of her during the last move, since none of us could even fit on the slide anymore.

  We sure did put that swing set through a lot in its day, though. All Three of us. Bobby would challenge Maggie and me to climb to the top and dare us to jump. Maggie and I would swing so high we thought we’d flip over.

  I swallowed down a sticky ball building in my throat, taking in the rusted edges and dented poles. It didn’t matter how big we grew. Nothing ever looked more beautiful.

  Pulling my sweater around me, I settled onto a swing. The chains creaked in their aging hinges. The cold rubber seat stretched under my weight, hugging my hips. For the first time since landing back in New Jersey, the essence of home enveloped me, melting the tightness in my shoulders.

  “Last one off is a rotten egg.” Bobby took the other swing beside me.

  Apparently I wasn’t the only one feeling nostalgic. I wished I knew what to say to him. Things were different now, even if we didn’t want them to be.

  The last time I’d seen Bobby, flames of chaos had surrounded us. He’d looked so sad and defeated. Since he obviously hadn’t been court-martialed, it was likely no one knew he’d been the one who set David free.

  If Bobby hadn’t been there, I would be dead. A shiver spiraled down my spine. Everyone would be dead.

  “Listen, Bobby. I never got a chance to thank you—”

  He poised his finger against my lips, lingering a touch longer than he probably should have. “I couldn’t let you die. The alien said he could save you. I never expected … ” He looked to the grass. “The way you looked at that thing, it killed me, Jess. I mean, I know you were under its control, but—”

  “I was not under his control. And his name is David, not it.”

  “Well, you looked like you cared for that thing. A lot.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t even imagine what we’d been through.”

  His nose crinkled. “The news feeds say you let that thing touch you. That’s not true, is it?”

  I got off the swing. “That’s none of your business.”

  He appeared beside me. “Oh, God, you did. How could you?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what is it?” Fire brimmed in his eyes.

  I considered dousing him with the garden hose. “Back off,” I muttered, retreating to the house.

  “Jess.”

  I stopped, my hand on the back door, gritting my teeth to keep from shouting at him.

  “I will always be here for you.” Bobby’s voice actually sounded tender, caring. “When you snap out of it, I will still be here. And I’m at least the right species.”

  He did not just say that. I pulled open the door and stomped inside. Mrs. Baker’s eyes widened as I turned to my dad. “I’m ready to go home. Now.”

  3

  Dad rustled up double-bacon-and-cheese omelets with a side of bacon. The breakfast of champions.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “You bet I did. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed my bed.” I fiddled with my fork. “I had to pull down the yellow police tape to get to my closet, though.”

  Dad smiled. “Yeah, I thought you’d get a kick out of that, so I left it there.”

  The police had been in our house. Wow. Probably a few hundred government scientists, too.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said. “Did they mess anything up?”

  Dad handed me a plate. “There was stuff everywhere when I first came home. I stood in your room for a while, flabbergasted over what they’d done. Luckily, though, they’d left that college application on your desk, and your portfolio was in one piece.”

  I warmed knowing that he took the time to complete my application and send it, even though his daddy-instincts were probably screaming, “Protect child. No
w!” Score two points for Dad.

  “I’m sorry the house got messed up.”

  He waved his hand beside his head. “To be honest, I could have cared less. I just wanted to get back to you. I took the one-night siesta the general ordered and left before sunrise to make sure they weren’t sticking needles in you or anything.”

  Yikes. I was sooo glad that never happened.

  “Thank God for the Bakers. They are the ones who came through with a clean-up squad.” He nodded; his thoughts far away. “Damn good friends, they are.”

  We ate in silence. I soaked in the hum of the refrigerator and the rattle of the air conditioner. It was all so right. So normal.

  Dad’s gaze left Never-Never Land and fixed on me. “You going to be all right?”

  Wow, was that an open-ended question. What was he really asking me?

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Okay, jig’s up. “What do you want to talk about, Dad?”

  He placed his fork down and rubbed his eyes. “I always let your mother take care of things like this.”

  “Thinks like what?”

  “Boys.”

  Oh no. Not the talk.

  “Is everything okay between you and Bobby?” he asked.

  I tilted my head. “Dad, you know Bobby and I broke up months ago.”

  “I thought so, but you looked pretty close last night.”

  Until I stormed away from the guy and demanded Dad take me home. Had he conveniently forgotten that part or something? “It’s over between us.”

  “Huh.”

  Huh. I hated that word. It was always followed by thirty seconds of angst while I waited for the fatherly interpretation that almost never made any sense unless you were pushing forty. Did brain cells start dying in your late thirties or something?

  “He’s a nice young man. It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

  Whoa. I wasn’t even sure what to say, so I followed the call of the bacon and stuffed it between my lips. The crunchy bliss made it easier to keep my mouth shut.

  He reached out and grabbed my hand. Scared the bejesus out of me. “I don’t want you hurt, Pequeña.”