Broken Dreams (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 5) (23 page)

“You’re also her father,” Mara said. “I’m sure she didn’t want to disappoint you if things didn’t work out. And, frankly, daughters have avoided talking about procreation with their fathers since fathers and daughters were invented,” Mara said. “Anyway, she learned it worked the day before she disappeared. I’m sure she was on the verge of telling you.”

“That’s no excuse for leaving me out of the loop on something as momentous as this,” her father said.

Mara felt like
she
was being chastised. He looked at Ping’s counterpart and said, “You work in that lab with her almost every day, and you did not understand this was happening? How could that be?”

The other Ping looked rattled. “It’s a very large laboratory, and she is always moving from one project to another. I assure you that I had no idea she was working on something with this much potential with regard to perpetuity. Oh, she dabbled with different concepts, but she only hinted about having a baby.”

“When our Mara gets back, we will have a little talk,” said Dr. Lantern. “I appreciate she feels a strong sense of responsibility to bring about perpetuity, but she needs to let the rest of us help carry the burden. That’s especially true now that she will be a mother,” her father said. He must have mulled over that last sentence, and his irritated expression gave way to a smile.

The other Ping nodded and stood up, clearing the table.

Dr. Lantern tossed his napkin on his plate and announced, “I’m going for a walk. Anyone want to tag along?”

Mara grabbed his plate and hers, and said, “I’ll stay here and help Ping clean up. I should move around a little, but I’ve had enough of the great outdoors for one day.” Visions of hurling into the bushes next to the river were still fresh in her mind.

Ping and Sam followed Dr. Lantern out the back door.

Returning from the sink to gather more dishes, Ping said, without making eye contact, “I can get this if you want to relax in the study. I don’t really need help.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, I wanted to bend your ear, if you don’t mind,” she said.

“Regarding what?” he asked.

“Why you refuse to look at me. Have I done something to offend you? You were so boisterous, comparatively speaking, when we first met,” she said.

He picked up the last of the glasses and returned to the sink, which he began to fill. “I suppose I feel guilty for exposing you to this situation, for insisting you wear those clothes.”

“Seems like misplaced guilt if it’s true,” she said, moving to his side and picking up a towel, preparing to dry.

He cut off the water and turned to her. “Oh, it’s true. I had no idea. I’m concerned there is no way you will ever believe me.”

“That’s it? You’re worried that I wouldn’t believe you?”

“Of course. Mara—my Mara—and I have to trust each other implicitly to work as close as we do in the laboratory.” He began washing.

“Yet she didn’t confide in you with the whole baby thing. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Most likely she didn’t want to put me in a position where I would have to lie or obfuscate to her father. You see, technically, he is my employer, and he expects me to keep an eye on her. Something that, I’m afraid in his eyes, I have failed to do.”

“I don’t see how he can blame you for anything. She’s probably as strong-willed as I am. She should be back in short order, as soon as she’s reconnected to the receptacle network,” she said. “I don’t know this dad as well as my own version, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who would expect you to spy on his daughter.”

“I suppose that’s all true. So you believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you.”

“I do feel bad about involving you in this pregnancy business. I would never have done so without your knowledge.”

“If you want to make it up to me, how about you take me and Sam for a ride in that copter tomorrow? He wants to try it out.”

Sitting on a narrow windowsill in the study, Mara stared outside at the gray clouds and driving rain. Over breakfast, the other Ping had said he expected the weather to clear up later in the day, and he would fulfill his promise to take Mara and Sam on a ride in the copter. In the meantime she had nothing to do, though everyone else had scattered with purpose to their morning. Even Abby seemed content to stay in her room and convalesce.

Sam passed by in the hallway and noticed Mara and reversed course to enter the large room. He approached the couches and hiked a knee onto one of its arms and leaned into it. “Since the weather has ruined your plan to look for the Aphotis, what are you doing with your day?” he asked.

Mara turned and glared at him. “I never said I was looking for the Aphotis. Where did you get that idea?”

“I may have only been your brother for a few months from your perspective, but I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’ve had an older sister the whole time. You don’t spend your time taking pointless joyrides. And it just makes too much sense to use a flying machine to look for a floating cloud of mist. If it occurred to me, I’m pretty sure it occurred to you,” he said. “But thanks for including me, even if it was to provide a cover story.”

“Smart boy. Do me a favor and don’t mention it to either Ping—or Dad for that matter. As far as anyone else is concerned, we are going for a joyride around the neighborhood. Since the other Ping will be with us, I doubt anyone will think we’re up to something.”

“All right, but I get to steer the thing. I want to fly it some, not just be a passenger,” he said.

“That’s between you and Ping, but I’m sure he can let you hold the controls for a minute of two without killing us.”

“Cool.” He pointed to her vest. “I was going to ask you at breakfast, but I didn’t want to accidently embarrass you in front of everyone. If the baby is growing inside those clothes, why don’t you just not wear them? Wouldn’t that make you
not
pregnant?”

“I’m somewhat shocked,” she said.

“What? It’s one of those questions you’re not supposed to ask a pregnant woman?”

“No. I’m shocked it occurred to you not to blurt out whatever popped into your head. That is so unlike you.” She smiled at him.

“Thanks. That’s very condescending of you, but you didn’t answer the question.”

She shrugged and looked down at the carpet for a moment. “I took them off last night when I was getting ready for bed, but I was overcome by this terrible sadness, an emptiness. I almost burst out crying, so I put them back on. For the time being, I think I’m stuck with being pregnant.”

Sam crinkled his nose. “Don’t you think those clothes will get ripe after a few days?”

Mara laughed. “I think the other Mara made the vest and pants from this pseudoleather material so it would be easy to clean. As for me, I can deal with the emotions long enough for a shower.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Sam pushed off from the couch and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Bruce invited me to work with him in the fabrication shop. I’ll chop up some metal or make some new miders or something. Wanna come?”

“No, I think Bruce and I have spent enough time together,” she said.

“Suit yourself. Be sure to let me know when it’s time for the copter ride.” He waved over his head as he turned the corner.

After he was out of sight, Mara heard him talking to their father down the hall.

“Have you seen your sister running around here?” he asked Sam.

“In the study,” Sam said. His footsteps clomped down the stairs.

It struck Mara as strange how Sam had fallen into such an easy rapport with his dad so quickly.

“There you are,” her father said as he entered the study. “I got a message from Chief Simmons this morning, and he wants to talk about the events at the mill yesterday. He’s figuring out how to explain what happened to the owners and what to put in his reports.”

“He wants to talk to me?” Mara asked.

“Yes, but you riding in the rain for an hour to get to town is out of the question.”

“I feel fine, not even any morning sickness this morning. I think that first bout of nausea was the shock of the whole thing on my system.”

He shook his head. “I’ve asked your Mr. Ping to come into town with me, and we’ll explain to the chief what is happening—the whole truth. And we’ll ask him to keep it to himself so we don’t start a panic in the community. There’s no need for you to go. If the chief insists on talking to you, I’ll invite him to come out here. I think that’s best.”

“I understand your concern, but I’m fine. To be honest with you, I need something to do. How does your Mara keep herself busy on a rainy day?”

“She works in the lab mostly. Why don’t you talk to Ping and see what you can do there that is nonlethal and appropriate for an expectant mother? If nothing else, it’ll kill some time.”

Walking into the center of the steam lab’s circular counter, Mara and Ping passed the board of mounted lightbulbs. Except for the one shattered bulb, the rest of the board looked intact, despite Mara’s minor disaster of an experiment with electricity.

“Did you ever tell me the purpose of this contraption? I don’t recall,” Mara said.

“I don’t think so. Your impulsive display of electrical finger-pointing derailed my train of thought, which, if I recall correctly, you also failed to explain,” Ping said.

“I told you about my metaphysical abilities. You simply dismissed them as hogwash. Remember?”

“I never said the word
hogwash
. I questioned the paradigm in which you explain the underlying rationale of your beliefs. But, the longer I spend with you and your Mr. Ping, the more I can see how you came to the conclusions that metaphysics might be a reasonable framework. In truth, I never made the connection between your little lightning bolt and metaphysics.”

“Well, they are connected. So, what’s up with the lightbulbs? What does Mara hope to accomplish with them?” she asked.

“She has been trying to develop a less volatile light source than the kerosteam we use now. Occasionally someone will break a bulb and be burned accidently. There have also been a couple incidents of small fires.”

“Bummer. So she needs to find a material that produces light but not fire. Is that what we are doing today?”

“No. That project requires multiple experiments over a long time to find the right combination of constituents, not to mention the potential for incendiary results which I would prefer not to explain to your father. I have no doubt you would eventually get there, but it might be best to work on something you can complete in a day or two. Agreed?”

“I acquiesce to your greater experience in these matters. Give me an experiment to conduct, and I will execute it to the best of my abilities.”

“I get the impression you are mocking me,” he said.

“No, I’ve noticed you seem more like my Ping when you are in the lab. Why is that?”

“Perhaps I fall into a more familiar role when we are here as opposed to when we are doing dishes in the kitchen. In here, with you, I’m more of a teacher or mentor. Would you say that describes your relationship with your Mr. Ping?”

She nodded. “Yeah. That must be it.”

The copper organ-pipe compressor at the back of the room
clunk
ed and hissed, sending a cloud into the air near the high ceiling and causing Mara to jump. “Does that thing have to do that?” she asked.

“It does if you want distilled steam for your work,” he said, waving her to the opposite side of the round counter. When they got there, he crouched and shuffled items on a shelf. Straightening, he held a large roll in his arms. “Here it is. This was her first stab at this particular experiment. I don’t think she thought it out completely, but she was on to something. She just didn’t have time to finish it.”

“Hard to find the time when you are surreptitiously creating a baby in the lab,” Mara said.

“Yes. It’s a wonder she got anything done with that going on.”

Fumbling around with the roll, Ping held it parallel to the floor and so that his hands were under it, balancing the weight of it on his palms. Pointing with forehead, he said, “See that section of counter that’s empty?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to place several small items there. They need to be made of metal, and do me a favor. Let’s not use anything that’s sharp or too pointed.”

Mara raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you have rolled up there?”

“It’s a carpet, a throw rug. Can you please place the metallic items like I asked? I want to conduct a little demonstration for you.”

She dashed back to the opposite side of the counter where it seemed most of the work was done and where most of the clutter was concentrated. She scanned the area and saw little that qualified as metallic. Most of the equipment appeared to be glass or plastic. Spotting a collection of measuring spoons on a ring, she grabbed those. Pacing along the counter’s edge, she stopped and examined a knife that looked like a scalpel.

“Not sharp,” Ping said.

She returned it to the counter and picked up some kind of gauge with a rubber hose attached. Its casing appeared steel, so she tucked that under her arm. Then she found two rectangular pans and an odd-looking ladle. She held that up to Ping, and he nodded. With her hands now full, she walked over to the space on the counter and dropped everything with a clatter. “Do you need me to arrange them somehow?” she asked.

“Just space them out in a row less than three feet wide,” he said.

She did as he asked and stepped back, examining the odd display. Turning back to Ping, she gave him a quizzical look.

“Step to the side. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

That merited another raised eyebrow, but she nonetheless took three steps backward and crossed her arms.

Ping held up his arms and unfurled the rolled carpet before him. The metallic items on the counter jumped into the air and flew into the rug, sticking to it with a muffled rattle. With his arms dipping under the additional weight of the items clinging to the carpet, Ping peeked over its edge and asked, “Understand what is happening?”