Authors: Angela Hunt
Face, The (34 page)
And in that moment, Aunt Renee’s voice wafts through my memory like the sound of wind on water:
They had a three-legged race after lunch, and Kevin and I won this for first place. It’s nothing, really, but I think that was the happiest moment of my life.
Dr. Mewton’s gaze catches and holds mine. “I was listening when she gave you the cup, when she told you the story. That may have been the happiest moment of her life as a child, but she wouldn’t say that now. She’d say her happiest moment was when you accepted her gift.”
“Dr. Mewton?” Jeff Prather steps into the room. “We have to go.”
Like a queen granting a favor, she waves in his direction, then bends and lowers her voice. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you, Sarah. You may not believe that I cared for you, but I did. I cared for you in the only way I knew.”
Jeff clears his throat. “Dr. Mewton, I must insist.”
She gives me a smile Aunt Renee would describe as
rueful.
“Goodbye, Sarah. I’m going to miss those brown eyes…. They will always be yours alone.”
Two years later
“W
ait, Peter, you’re walking too fast.” He turns, tossing a grin over his shoulder, and offers me an elbow. I reach for it gratefully, and hold it close as I snuggle into the space beneath his arm.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Peter pauses and nods toward the bridge that leads away from the student center. “Seems a bit odd, the bloke meeting us out here when we could all be warm inside.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.”
I study the bench carved into the toffee-colored stones of the old bridge. The creek beneath the span, not yet frozen, gurgles in a companionable murmur, just as the sea once provided a soothing undercurrent to other conversations whispered among ancient stones and weathered rocks.
“I like this place.” I sit on the bench and pull Peter down beside me. “And I think you’ll like Vincent.”
“I shall reserve judgment,” Peter proclaims, “until after I’ve met the man. If he’s one of your old sweethearts—”
“Not mine.” I lower my gaze as unexpected tears sting my eyes. “He was close to my aunt, though. If things had been different, I think they might have gotten married.”
“Oh?” Peter slides his hands into his pockets and shivers in the frosty air. “What happened?”
The question jerks me from an old memory of a dining room debate about my welfare. “Hmm?”
“What came between them?”
I hunch deeper into my coat and blink tears from my eyes. “Another love.”
I stand as a familiar figure alights from a black London cab and approaches from the road. Dr. Kollman’s hair is lighter now, threaded with strands of silver, and his walk is a little less smooth than before. But his face lights when he sees me, and his smile is wide when we meet. A toothy smile, Aunt Renee said once, is almost always sincere.
“Dr. Kollman!” I leap up to wrap my arms around him.
“Sarah.” He returns my embrace and rhythmically bestows a few paternal pats on the back. “How are you?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“Busy running here and there. Still patching people up, but operating out of a new clinic these days. Always glad to visit London, though.”
“Still working for the company?”
“Of course, but the division is under new management. The work, as you might imagine, is always interesting.” When we pull apart, Dr. Kollman nods in Peter’s direction. “Is this the young man you mentioned?”
“Vincent Kollman, meet Peter Stillman.” I step back as Peter stands and shakes the doctor’s hand.
The men exchange “good to meet yous,” then Peter clears his throat. “Sarah talks about you all the time. She says you’re a brilliant surgeon.”
“Sarah’s always been prone to exaggeration. But I must say it’s wonderful to meet the man who’s made Sarah so happy.”
“That—making Sarah happy—has been my pleasure.”
Embarrassed, I grip a sleeve of each man’s overcoat. “I’m delighted to have both of my favorite men within reach.”
“Better not let Judson hear you say that,” Peter says. “He thinks he has a firm grip on the number two position.”
“What Jud doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Oh! Did I tell you the big news? Judson’s son arrived a few weeks ago. After Judson left the company, he sent Darius a letter. They’ve finally reunited.”
“How did Darius take the news?”
“Surprised, of course, but he was thrilled once he got over the shock. They’ve done a lot of catching up, and I think Darius will be going to school here next term.” I beam up at Dr. K. “You’re looking really good, sir.”
“So are you.” Dr. Kollman slides his hands into his pockets. “How’s school these days?”
I roll my eyes. “Judson’s as happy as a lark in his classroom, but that applied calculus class is still giving me trouble.”
“The lads keep asking her out,” Peter says, grinning, “even though I tell them it’s not proper for a student to date the professor.”
Dr. Kollman lifts a brow. “Is that all you tell them? You must be a man of remarkable restraint.”
“Well, no.” The tip of Peter’s sweet nose goes pink. “If they press, I inform them that Dr. Sims is unavailable. She’s to marry me in two months.”
“Really? That’s wonderful news.” His eyes sink into nets of wrinkles as he smiles. “Congratulations, both of you.”
“Actually, sir—” I tug on his sleeve “—I was hoping you would give me away.”
He stares at me, his expression so full of emotions that for a moment I can’t define any of them. I see surprise, affection, a quick flicker of loss and regret and finally, pleasure. “I’d be honored,” he says, his voice deep with satisfaction. “I’d swim an ocean to be there.”
“Let’s hope you won’t have to.”
For an instant I think Dr. Kollman might hug me again, but he keeps his hands in his pockets, though his eyes sparkle as they sweep over my face. He studies me so intently and with such obvious enjoyment that Peter clears his throat again. “Should we—would you like to, I mean, go for a cup of tea?”
“Oh, no.” Dr. Kollman’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “I have to run, but I can’t forget the main reason I stopped by today. I wanted to deliver this.”
From his inner coat pocket he pulls a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. The outer wrapping has been stamped CLASSIFIED and TOP SECRET.
“Sorry for the delay,” he says, placing the package in my hands. “These were discovered in Dr. Mewton’s desk. I’d have given them to you straightaway if I’d known about them. Because I didn’t know, they had to go through proper channels before they could be released.”
“Any news about Dr. M?”
“None I’m privy to. Still behind bars, I suspect.”
My heart pounds as I weigh the package on my palm. “Do you know what this is?”
“Letters.” He slides his hand back into his pocket. “To you, from Renee. Apparently she wrote you for several months before you met her. Unfortunately, they were never delivered.”
I pull off the string and run my thumbnail under the taped seal, unwrapping the parcel. On top I see an envelope, addressed to me in Aunt Renee’s graceful handwriting. I flip the letter open and see that it’s been opened, but that’s okay. Whatever she said, I know I’ll want to read these letters again and again.
“Censors, you know,” Dr. K says, his smile tinged with regret. “Fortunately, they didn’t obliterate anything.”
I hug the parcel to my chest as a feeling of glorious anticipation fills my heart. I know what I’ll find in these pages because I know my aunt. She would have written that she is looking forward to seeing me, that she wants to tell me about my father, that she longs for the day when we can sit and talk….
“It seems I’m always thanking you.” I look up at Dr. K, not surprised to find myself tearing up again. “But I’ve never meant it more than now.”
He places his gloved hand alongside my smooth cheek, then tenderly taps the beauty mark above my lip. “I’m glad you kept that. Call me with details about the wedding. And do give Judson a big hello for me.” He draws me into another bear hug, but leans down to whisper in my good ear. “You
are
beautiful, you know. She would be so happy to see you.”
I rise on tiptoe to reply. “If I am…it’s only because of what she gave me.”
“Perhaps not so much that—” his breath warms my neck “—as because of what she
inspired
in you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking more radiant.”
I kiss his cheek and we pull apart. “Off to save the world, then,” he says, tucking his scarf into his overcoat.
“Roger that.” I send him off with a smile. “Be safe, Dr. K.”
Peter slips his arm around me as I stand on the bridge and wistfully watch another connection to my past walk away. “What was that all about?” he asks. “It’s almost as if you two were speaking in code.”
I give him a smile that springs from a heart filled with contentment. “One day I’ll explain it all,” I promise, linking my arm through his. “One day you might need to know.”
Dear Reader,
We hope you have enjoyed this thought-provoking book by Angela Hunt.
Overleaf, we have provided some discussion questions on
The Face
that will hopefully increase your enjoyment and understanding of this book.
The Editors
MIRA Books
- As you will discover if you search the Internet for research on brain printing, Spanish poppy production, lie detection, CIA black sites, and propranolol (the trauma drug), most of the concepts featured in this novel are quite real. Did some of these concepts seem far-fetched as you read the story? Does knowing that these ideas come from actual situations change any aspect of your worldview? In what way?
- When Sarah first learns that she has an aunt, she says “I have family…an aunt, a woman who
knows who I am.
If this is true, then this woman knows more about me than I know about myself. She knows where I have come from, who my mother was. She knows my father. Maybe she knows why I am here.”
How does Sarah’s yearning to know her aunt reflect the yearning most people feel to understand and explore their roots? - How does the author use the setting to emphasize the theme of the story? Could the story have been set in another locale? How did the setting emphasize or detract from Sarah’s plight?
- When she’s dreaming of the perfect face, Sarah thinks “I don’t want to be breathtakingly gorgeous; I wouldn’t know how to handle perfection.”
Would you want to have a perfect face? How would your life change if you had the world’s definition of perfect beauty? - When Sarah confesses her feelings for Dr. Kollman and finds they are not reciprocated, she thinks “He doesn’t love me because he can’t love me. He has seen me at my ugliest and most misshapen. Even if I look like Miss America by this time next year, he will never be able to forget what I truly am.”
How is love influenced by beauty? Does the person who truly loves keep a record of faults? - What do you think about the idea of memory implantation? The information about the trauma drug is true. If you could remove unpleasant emotion from some of the past events in your life, would you? Should Sarah have opted to give herself new memories? Would you?
- Think for a moment about the characters in this book. Which women truly had “no faces”—no emotional involvement with the people around them. Who came to have emotional involvement? What were the forces that brought these characters into a closer relationship with others?
- What were some of the themes in the book? Are these themes relevant to your life? A year from now, will this story still resonate with you? Why or why not?
- Would you say this is a plot-driven novel (the plot moves the characters forward) or a character-driven novel (the characters drive the plot)? What were the turning points for each of the major characters, and what might have happened if they had chosen the opposite path?
- With which character—Sarah, Renee, or Glenda—do you most identify? Why? How did their histories make them into the women they are? How will their lives influence each other?
- If you were casting a movie of this novel, which actors would you choose for each of the main characters?
- Have you read other novels by Angela Hunt? How does this novel echo themes in her other works? How does it differ?
While writing this book, I frequently felt like the circus performer who spins plates. Each plate—face transplants, brainprinting, computer technology, the CIA—required research and planning in order to remain airborne. Thankfully, I had help.
I owe special thanks to the father-and-son team of Ron and Andrew Benrey, who helped me with information about pinging computers. Athol Dickson was kind enough to share his wife, the Lovely Sue, who used her computer expertise to vet many of my computer scenarios. Thank you, Michael Garnier, for being an invaluable “test reader.”
Thank you, Tom Morrisey, for being the go-to guy for details on pistols and weapons.
Also, many thanks to Don Maass, who helped me enlarge the story concept and suggested brain printing as a possible story development.
Thank you, Krista Stroever, Joan Marlow Golan and Terry Hicks, for wonderful editing and an eye for detail.
Finally, hugs and thanks to Dr. Mel Hodde and Dr. Harry Kraus, friends and medical experts who demonstrated (in public, no less!) how a woman should direct a bullet if she wants to donate her face to a loved one. I have such fascinating and knowledgeable Christian brothers!
I also received instruction and guidance from the following books and articles:
Adler, Jerry and Springen, Karen. “Can You Really Botox the Blues Away?”
Newsweek,
May 29, 2006, p. 8.
Ekman, Paul.
Emotions Revealed.
New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2003.
Ekman, Paul and Rosenberg, Erika L.
What the Face Reveals.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.
Kessler, Ronald.
Inside the CIA.
New York: Pocket Books, 1992.
Mason, Michael. “A New Face: A Bold Surgeon, an Untried Surgery,”
The New York Times,
July 26, 2005.
Espinosa, Antonio J.
The Master of Disguise.
New York: William Morrow and Company, 1999.
Moran, Lindsay.
Blowing My Cover: My Life as a CIA Spy.
New York: Berkley Books, 2005.
Polmar, Norman and Allen, Thomas B.
The Encyclopedia of Espionage.
New York: Gramercy Books, 1997.
Shulsky, Abram N. and Schmitt, Gary J.
Silent Warfare: Understanding the World of Intelligence.
Washington, DC: Potomac Books, 2002.
Siebert, Charles. “Making Faces,”
The New York Times Magazine,
March 9, 2003.
Talbot, Margaret. “Duped: Can Brain Scans Uncover Lies?”
The New Yorker,
July 2, 2007.
