Jack And Anna - Back To Winnipeg

7. It Was Always You-1

The sound of the doorbell had Jack barrelling down the stairs like he was thirteen again. Old habits were hard to break, he supposed. Actually, it was his attempt at being helpful. Anna was deep in research mode, and his father probably needed a rest after all that hiking; so, Jack figured he could deal with whichever salesman or local politician had come by. A visit in the middle of the day usually meant one of those two things.

Pulling the door open shattered that assumption. It wasn’t some stranger with a clipboard who stood on his porch. No, it was someone he hadn’t seen in over seven years, someone he hadn’t expected to ever see again.

Randy Lambert had changed quite a bit since their last meeting. Every trace of the gangly, awkward kid who used to follow him and Peter around was gone. Now Randy was a tall and handsome young man with curly, brown hair and the beginnings of a goatee. He still had a few freckles on his cheeks, but the boyish look probably earned him some points with the ladies.

His smile withered when he saw Jack. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is Mr. Hunter home?”

“Yeah, sure, Randy. Come on in.”

Calling the young man by his name was a mistake.

Randy gave Jack a little side-eye. “Have we met before?”

Well, that was a face-palm of an introduction if ever Jack had seen one. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this whole “erased from history” thing. Hastily, he searched for an explanation.

“Oh, um, my…uncle Arthur told me you would be coming by.”

Backing away from the door, Jack made room for the other man to come through. Randy was still unconvinced, his skeptical stare leaving knots of anxiety in Jack’s belly. “You’re Arthur’s nephew?”

Forcing an awkward smile, Jack hoped that his flushed cheeks would lend credence to his story. “The son of his second cousin,” he elaborated. “I’m from out near Ottawa. My wife and I were travelling across the country, and we thought we’d stop by. Uncle Art has been on his own a lot lately.”

Randy squinted, sizing him up. “You look a lot like Arthur.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Jack was spared the need to come up with any more lies when his father emerged from the family room. Arthur had changed into a pair of shorts and an old, gray t-shirt with a faded Winnipeg Jets logo. “I got your letter,” he said gruffly.

Before anyone could speak, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a thin, white envelope. “It’s in there,” he muttered, shouldering his way past Jack. “Signed and everything.”

Randy took the envelope and held it up with a shy smile of his own. “Thanks, Mr. Hunter. It means a lot.”

“You want a beer?” Arthur offered.

“Oh, um…”

“Come on!” Arthur said, turning around to stand beside Randy, patting him gently on the shoulder. “If you’re gonna be on the Force, you have to learn to drink with crusty old cops.”

Jack hopped into the living room as the pair of them retreated to the back of the house. Poor Randy looked like he had just walked in on his mother while she regaled his girlfriend with stories of what he was like as a toddler. Jack almost wished that he could pull a fire alarm and give the guy an excuse to leave.

But of course, he knew the rules. When a friend of the family offered you a letter of recommendation, you pretty much had to go along with whatever asinine social custom they decided to inflict on you. He felt curiosity from Summer. Some human conventions baffled her. He would love to explain, but the truth was he was right there with her.

Shuffling over to the stairs, Jack rested his hand on the railing and craned his neck. “Hey, Ann! Why don’t you come join us for a sec?”

She appeared on the landing a moment later, now dressed in denim shorts and a t-shirt with flowers on the sleeves. He had always liked that particular outfit. Hurrying down the stairs, she smiled and jerked her head toward the kitchen. “Friend of yours?”

“Randy. I thought maybe you’d like to meet him.”

“Yeah, definitely!”

They found Arthur and Randy sitting at the round, wooden table, bathed in the sunlight that came through the large window. Each man had a beer in his hand, though Randy kept staring at his like it might be poison.

“You’re gonna do great, kid,” Arthur said, leaning back and taking a long, slow sip. “Your dad will be so proud.”

Pete had worked in security. Jack didn’t know much about the man’s career, but he remembered hearing stories about how Pete had wanted to be a cop. Well, now, he could live vicariously through his son. Assuming, of course, that Randy went through with it. That look of discomfort on his face gave Jack some concerns.

Eager to change the subject, Randy turned to Jack and Anna. “So, this is your nephew and his wife?”

“They’re visiting from out of town,” Arthur explained. “Jack Hunter, Anna Lenai, this is Randy Lambert.”

“Lenai,” Randy said. “That’s an interesting last name.”

“I’m Leyrian,” Anna clarified.

Her declaration made Randy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Then you’re from way out of town. And, Jack, you said you’re from Ottawa?”

wayJack let his head bob from side to side. “More or less,” he said with a shrug. “My family moved around a lot, but we mostly lived near the capital.”

“How did you meet a Leyrian woman?”

“Well, it’s a funny story-”

Anna stepped closer to him, slipping an arm around his waist and giggling as she rested her head on his chest. “I’m a painter,” she said. “I was doing a show in Ottawa. He came, we chatted…”

Shutting his eyes tight, Jack raised a hand and rolled his wrist emphatically. “She’s got this beautiful landscape with a waterfall. You should see it! Honey, what was that one called again?”

“Silver Serenity.”

The part wasn’t a lie. Anna really had painted some beautiful vistas that had found homes in various Leyrian galleries. They were all gone now: erased along with everything else that might prove they existed.

Randy was much more relaxed now, so at ease that he actually took a sip of his beer. “That’s incredible. You know, I used to paint when I was young.”

“Really?” Anna exclaimed.

“Yeah, well…”

“You’ll have to show me some of your work.”

Suddenly, Randy was beet-red and averting his eyes. “Well, I mean it’s not nearly as good as yours.”

Anna seemed to take that as a challenge. If there was one thing she was good at – besides art and kicking bad-guy a*s – it was convincing people to believe in themselves. “Don’t be so modest!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure I’ll love it. Send me a sample.”

Arthur’s chair scraped across the floor as he got up. “Well,” he said, snatching up his beer. “I’ll leave you all to get acquainted. Excuse me.” He plodded out of the kitchen and returned to his program in the other room.

Anna was quick to claim the seat he had vacated, leaning over the table with an eager smile. “So, how long have you been painting? Do you have any formal training? Or did you teach yourself?”

Randy stiffened, startled by the barrage of questions, and gave his head a shake. “Uh, no formal training,” he stammered. “Unless you count art class in high school. I just always had a drive to capture what I see, you know?”

“You should explore it.”

Grimacing, Randy hung his head. “My dad tells me it’s a waste of time.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say to your kid.”

“Well, he’s always telling me that artists don’t make a lot of money.”

“There’s more to life than money, Randy.” It warmed Jack’s heart to hear those words coming out of his wife’s mouth. In so many ways, he could relate to the other man. These last few weeks had been a blur of confusion and large, life-spanning questions that had no answers. It was nice to be reminded of why he and Anna belonged together. “There are plenty of Leyrian universities with fantastic art programs,” she went on. “If you go, you’ll have an apartment and food and clothes – all free.”

fantastic“Because you guys need artists that badly?”

Anna chuckled, shaking her head. “Because there’s no poverty on Leyria,” she said. “Or on Alios or Palissa or Velezia. We have more than enough of everything, and we share it freely.”

“That sounds…kind of nice.”

“Bring me some of your work,” Anna said. “I’ll help you apply to one of those art programs. Never hurts to have another option, right?”

Randy’s face lit up with the first genuine grin Jack had seen since he came through the front door. “That’d be great! I can come by later tonight if you-Or, no. That won’t work.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just my brother is throwing a stupid party, and I’m supposed to make an appearance.” Some of his enthusiasm returned when an idea occurred to him. “But you guys could come with me!”

“It’s a kind offer,” Anna said. “But I’m afraid we have some work to do. But give me your number! We’ll keep in touch.”

* * *

Lauren’s pink-walled bedroom had a desk; Anna had claimed that as her workspace. It pleased Jack to see that his sister’s room had been left undisturbed. Her bed was still neatly made with pink throw pillows. Her poster of David Sharp’s sexy album cover was still on the wall, in the corner. Jack remembered her brief obsession with his music during their high school years. Warm sunlight came through the window with the muffled sound of a soft breeze.

Anna was sitting at the desk with her SmartGlass tablet plugged into a portable keyboard unit, forming a makeshift laptop. Bent forward, she peered into the screen with such intensity you might have thought she had stumbled on the secret of eternal life. “It’s no good,” she said. “I’ve got paragraphs and paragraphs on Votoran’s Dimensional Asymmetry Hypothesis, but not a damn word on how to close a wormhole.”

Jack hopped into the rickety, old chair that he had placed beside her. “What about a static warp shell?”

“A what?”

The next thing he knew, he was gesticulating like some eccentric professor trying to explain one of his pet theories. “Well, you park a shuttle next to the wormhole, and then you activate the warp engines. But the warp bubble doesn’t actually move. It just remains stationery and forces space-time back into its proper shape.”

Anna gave him a look. “Did you get that idea from Star Trek?”

Star Trek?”“Absolutely not!” Jack replied. His scandalized glare quickly melted into a roguish grin. “I got it from Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

Star Trek: The Next Generation.”Anna patted his thigh. “It’s an interesting idea, sweetie,” she said, returning her attention to the screen. “But there’s one small problem. You can’t make a warp field this close to something as big as Earth.”