Ejecta (21 page)

Each sentence struck Palmer like a slap across the face. Sorrow filled his eyes and Devlin regretted her words. But the damage was done. His voice was little more than a whisper. “What did they tell you?”

She didn’t want to cause him further pain, but the subject was out in the open now, and she couldn’t see how to back away from it. “I saw the portion of the interview where the police officer talked about your wife and how she died.”

“What you saw was a lie,” Palmer responded grimly.

Devlin felt her chin start to tremble. “Then your wife is alive?”

“No, she’s dead,” Palmer admitted soberly. “That much was true. But I wasn’t drunk. A breathalyzer test proved that. But I
was
at the wheel when the semi blew through the red light. Maybe, had I been paying closer attention, Maria would be alive. That’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. The whole thing was in the papers. You can look it up.”

While it was true that Palmer’s version of the story did cast him in a more positive light a significant problem remained. “Okay,” Devlin conceded. “You weren’t drunk. I’m glad to hear it. For
your
sake not mine. But here’s the problem in so far as I’m concerned. You should have told me about it and didn’t.”

Palmer opened his mouth to say something at that point but stopped when Devlin raised a hand. “I’m sure you had your reasons. But the man I’m looking for is the kind of person who puts everything on the table even when that hurts. Because honesty generates trust—and trust is the glue that holds relationships together. That’s what I want. A relationship that’s built to last. Goodbye, Alex. I wish you nothing but the best.” And with that she was gone.

***

Seattle, Washington

After a series of weather related flight delays Devlin arrived back in Seattle to find that the city was beginning to get ready for Christmas. Except Devlin was in no mood for celebration. Especially after she arrived home to discover that McCracken’s ancient fridge had broken down.

The result was spoiled food, followed by a cursory examination by a repairman, who delivered an almost immediate thumbs down. The compressor was shot and the green machine wasn’t worth repairing. That led to some on-line research, a trip to Sears, and an unexpected outlay of money. Not disastrous, thanks to her pending inheritance, but annoying nonetheless. And it was against this background that Mark Milano showed up on her doorstep.

The last time the scientist had seen Milano he had been in Costa Rica, at his beer drenched birthday party, where the two of them had slipped outside the tin-roofed research station to spend a private moment together. As the celebration continued inside Devlin told Milano about McCracken’s death, the fact that she was going home to Seattle, and had no plans to return. A decision he reacted to with anger. That sparked a fight, Devlin left the party early, and boarded a plane the next morning. Now, as the bell rang and she opened the door, Milano struck a pose and said “Ta da!”

Once she saw Milano’s tall, lanky frame, Devlin felt her heart jump, as it had many times before. “Mark? Is that you? What a surprise!”

Milano swept Devlin off her feet and carried her inside. Something he’d done more than once. It never failed to make her feel smaller than she was and very feminine. “There!” Milano said, putting her down. “I carried you across the threshold. That means we’re married. Will you wash my shorts?”

Devlin laughed. “I see that your notion of a successful male-female relationship remains intact.”

“Not true,” Milano protested, as she closed the door. “I’m a changed man…. That’s why I dropped by. Let me take you to dinner where I will testify as to your remarkable beauty, ply you with amusing tales of
Angiostrongylus costaricensis,
and tell you about the new improved version of Mark Milano. Oh, and I’ll pick up the tab too!”

Devlin looked up into Milano’s face. He had black hair, serious brown eyes, and a nose that was only a tiny bit too large for his face. Altogether a handsome if somewhat mercurial man with whom she had once been very much in love. But, having grown tired of both his temper and his inability to make a commitment, Milano had been left behind. So, what was this? An attempt at reconciliation? Or an ex-boyfriend who was lonely and looking for some companionship? There was no way to tell, but odds were that Milano would make her laugh, and that would feel good.

So Devlin accepted the invitation, fed Dog, and went to get her coat. It was the one she had purchased at Macy’s a few days earlier, which served to remind the scientist of New York, Benjamin Quinton, and Alex Palmer. A man
not
given to flashes of temper, but troubled in other ways, as if to prove that flawed men were her lot in life.

Milano had a rental car. So they took that and headed for what had once been their favorite Chinese restaurant back in the days when they had been classmates, friends, and lovers. On the way Devlin learned that the other scientist would be home through Christmas, was trying to make up his mind about a teaching position in California, and couldn’t believe how cold Seattle was.

One of the things that made the Hong Kong restaurant different from most Chinese eateries was the décor. Rather than red walls, ceramic dragons, and murals of misty mountains, the brothers who ran “the Kong,” as the establishment was known in the Wallingford district, had gone for a more modern look embellished with dozens of movie posters and stills. Included were shots from
Ferry to Hong Kong
, starring Orson Welles,
Love is a Many-Splendored Thing
with William Holden, and
Macao,
starring both Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell. There were also posters honoring Jackie Chan, and Bruce Lee, who was buried in Seattle.

But when Sara Devlin and Mark Milano were shown to their table it was a poster for the James Bond movie
You Only Live Twice
that decorated the wall beside them. “This restaurant certainly brings back some memories,” Milano said nostalgically.

“That’s true,” Devlin agreed. “We celebrated a lot of birthdays, tax refunds, and a least one grant here.”

“And other things too,” Milano said mischievously.

There was a pause in the conversation as the waitress arrived and both ordered the dishes they
always
ordered at the Kong: Moo Goo Gaipan.

Once that was out of the way Milano brought the conversation back to the subject of the job opportunity at UCLA. There were lots of pros and cons and the next half hour was spent discussing them. Although the basic question was pretty clear. Which option was better? To continue the work in Costa Rica? Which was important, but barely paid a living wage, or to take what Milano had learned in the field and pass it along to fresh-faced undergrads? The job would pay better and still make a contribution. Especially if the connection to UCLA led to funding for his research.

The whole thing seemed like a no-brainer insofar as Devlin was concerned. Not only because of the opportunity to make some money, but because some of the very parasites Milano was studying were a threat to his health.

“So,” Milano said finally. “Enough about me…. What have
you
been up to? Anything exciting?”

A montage of images flickered through the parasitologist’s mind. McCracken’s dead body. Wally Brisco’s crop circle. The trailer park in Shelton. Palmer’s face when he smiled. Quinton barreling down the steps at her. All followed by a lonely flight home. “No,” Devlin lied. “Nothing at all.”

The Moo Goo Gaipan arrived then. And that made it easy to change the subject. Time flew as Milano told a hilarious story about the disastrous fishing trip he and the rest of the team had taken a couple of weeks earlier. But Devlin was feeling sick to her stomach by then—and a bit dizzy. Milano’s voice became a distant drone as Devlin’s vision began to blur and she wondered if she was going to throw up.

Then she saw Quinton’s head explode all over again and felt something akin to ice water trickle into her bloodstream. Had the attempt to prevent herself from inhaling airborne spores been sufficient? Or had she been infected by an alien parasite that was already in the process of making a place for itself deep inside her body? The thought terrified her. And at least some of her emotions must have been visible. “Sara?” Milano inquired. “Are you okay?”

Devlin swallowed the food that threatened to find its way up from her stomach and forced a smile. “Yes, sorry about that…. My period started yesterday. I’ll be right back.”

Milano nodded understandingly and stood as Devlin left the table.

Devlin felt lightheaded, as if intoxicated, as she made her way back to the women's restroom and opened the door. Then, as the recently eaten food began to boil up out of her stomach, she hurried into the first enclosure and barely had time to position herself over the toilet before throwing up. She heaved, and then heaved again, spewing everything she had into the commode. Then it was time to rest with hands on knees as she sought to catch her breath. Gradually, within a minute or so, Devlin began to feel better. A couple of minutes later she felt fine again.

It took a few minutes to wipe down the toilet seat and rinse her mouth out before returning to the table where Milano was waiting. “So,” he said, “are you okay?”

“Yes,” Devlin replied as she sat down. “It's really weird but I feel fine now.”

“Good. You're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Alright,” Milano said. “So let’s talk about
us.
When we parted company down in Costa Rica you said some things that made me angry. Which was stupid—since everything you said was true. I
do
tend to fly off the handle. I
was
slow to make a commitment—and I
should
give up Hawaiian shirts. And, if it means that I could spend the rest of my life with you, then I’m ready to work on the first two. The shirts are non-negotiable however. I've got to draw the line someplace.”

So saying, Milano got up from the table and dropped to one knee. Then, after removing a box from a pocket, he popped it open. The diamond wasn’t very large. But it glittered with reflected light and looked good against the black velvet.

In a voice that was sufficiently loud for surrounding customers to hear, Milano proposed. “I love you, Sara Devlin,” he said with a slight tremor in his voice. “Will you marry me?”

Devlin felt a confused jumble of emotions. Surprise, because Milano’s proposal was the last thing she had expected to hear. And a sense of tenderness. Because part of her was still in love with the man. But there was a feeling of consternation as well. Because having put the relationship behind her—it was strange to be confronted by it once again.

Thirty extremely long seconds passed. Milano, who was still down on one knee, had begun to perspire. A terrible silence had fallen over the room and Devlin could feel the other customers staring at her as she opened her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry, Mark, but I just don’t know. I need to think about it.”

Milano wasn’t the only one who looked disappointed. One woman said, “Oh, no! How could she?”

While the onlooker's companion shook her head sadly, she added, “That poor man!” And, judging from the way in which the waitress threw two fortune cookies onto the table,
she
was angry too.

In the meantime Milano got up, returned to his chair, and smiled crookedly. “Sorry, Sara…. I never was very good at that sort of thing.”

“It was very romantic,” Devlin replied reassuringly. “And, if you had done that a year ago, we’d be married right now.”

The other scientist frowned. “So, it’s too late?”

Devlin shrugged. “Not necessarily. But it’s like I said. Please give me some time.”

Milano searched her eyes. “How much?”

Devlin shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

The rest of the meal passed somewhat awkwardly. And by the time Milano gave Devlin a peck on the cheek, and dropped her off in front of her house, she was not only emotionally drained but suffering from a terrible headache.

The front door closed with a solid thud, and Devlin rested her weight on it for a moment as Dog arrived to head-butt her leg. “Was that a mistake?” she wanted to know. “Should I have said, ‘yes’ instead of ‘maybe?’”

However the meow sounded pretty much like all the other meows that Dog uttered, which wasn’t very helpful at all. A couple of aspirin took the edge off the headache, but Milano haunted her dreams, and refused to go away until she awoke the next morning.

There were chores to do, and errands to run, so the parasitologist was away from the house all morning and didn’t return until early afternoon. Upon her return Devlin found that a Fed Ex package had been left on her doorstep. The box felt heavy, and once Devlin took the carton inside, she saw that the return address was located in Benson, Arizona. Something that made no sense at all—until she remembered that Palmer lived nearby.

Dog followed Devlin into the study where she removed the outer layer of packaging to discover another beautifully wrapped box within. There was an envelope plus a card. The hand written note said, “Merry Christmas, Sara. Here’s something that is crusty on the outside and beautiful within. I’m sorry, and if you will give me a second chance, I promise to divulge
all
my remaining secrets. But only if you call me. Love, Alex.”

Devlin smiled, reread the last two words, and realized that the only time she had heard Milano use the word “love” was when he had proposed the night before. She removed a pair of scissors from the pencil cup, cut through the red ribbon, and let it fall onto the floor. Dog was there to attack it.

The gold holiday wrap came away to reveal the box inside. And once the lid was removed Devlin saw the rock. The geode was a good twelve-inches across and it had been cut in half to reveal a wealth of lavender colored crystals hidden within.

It was a clever way for Palmer to communicate the fact that he understood her concerns and took them seriously. But was that enough? Did she really want to align herself with a meteorite hunter who not only had a tendency to play fast and loose with the law, but was battling a drinking problem as well? Palmer seemed like a poor choice in many ways, yet when given the opportunity to marry Milano, she felt conflicted rather than jubilant. Why? Both the question
and
the cat named Dog followed Devlin as she made her way back towards the kitchen and a cup of tea.