Roswell Fanatics

Winner - Round 6



Title: Nobody’s Son
Author: Karen
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: If only I got paid for this! But I don't...so I just borrow.
Summary: This takes place 17 years after Four Aliens and a Baby. With that little bit of info, it won't take a rocket scientist to figure out who Nate is Graduation did not happen.
Author's Note: My banner is by the very talented babylisou! Nice work!


Part One

It was the memory that haunted him, that had been haunting him his entire life.

Nathan Spencer dipped his plastic cup into the fishy-smelling water and retrieved a half dozen minnows. Wiping the outside of the container dry, he snapped a lid onto it then handed it to the customer with a smile. Business had slowed down, what with the end of tourist season a week past. But there were still a few die-hard tourists and a lot of hearty locals who wanted to enjoy fishing on the lake before the onset of winter froze it solid.

As Nate gave the customer his change, he tried to shake the lingering memory from his mind. It was always there, just at the edge of his conscience, something he could almost get his fingers around before it flitted away again. It was maddening to say the least.

At the back of the store, Nate’s father Jonathan was taking inventory, deciding what they should order for their next delivery. Shipments would be smaller now that October was on its way the tourists had returned to their homes, mostly neighboring states of Ohio and Pennsylvania. Chautauqua was far from being an industrial Mecca, its livelihood based pretty much solely on the tourist trade, those people who had enough money to rent or buy a cabin along the lake’s shores, people who had more money than Nate and his father could ever hope to have. Nate’s people were country folk, living a simple, quiet life until the droves of vacationers arrived every summer, disturbing their peace, acting like they owned the place. Nate and his friends called these people “Flatlanders” because their home states were pretty much an even plane compared to the mountainous beauty of western New York. It wasn’t a kind nickname, but one that showed their resentment of these invading hoards of people.

“We’ll need to start stocking emergency supplies,” Jon was saying, studying his clipboard.

Nate glanced up and nodded. They’d had the same conversation every mid-September for as long as he could remember.

“Charcoal, gloves, ice salts,” his father mumbled, scribbling on the board. “Rope.”

Ugh, rope. Nate paled as he remembered one winter not so long ago when a bunch of children had wandered out onto the frozen lake, thinking it was safe to skate there. But the winter had been mild, the ice only an inch or so thick, and several of the kids had fallen through. Nate and his father had been able to pull all but one of them out and it was that one child that would make him dread winter for the rest of his life. He could still feel the sting of ice water on his skin and the squeeze of the rope around his shoulders as he’d lain on his belly on the surface of the ice, desperately plunging his hands into the water, grasping for that last little boy. In the end, he’d slipped away, unable to keep struggling, a victim of the frigid water.

Nate closed his eyes. The loss of the child had been a tragedy, but to Nate it had seemed so much more. For some unknown reason he’d felt responsible for letting that boy drown, that somehow he should have been able to save him, to make everything okay. It was silly, really, since the child falling through the ice had not been Nate’s fault, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming sense that he’d failed, that it was his duty to heal the pains of the world. Now he just wanted that memory and the memory of whatever it was he couldn’t quite put his hands on to go away forever.

“You okay?” Jon asked, peering at his son over the top of his glasses.

Nate nodded.

Jon gave a short nod of his head and tapped his pen on the clipboard. “Why don’t you go in the back and unload that shipment that came in this morning? I’ll watch the register for awhile.”

Nate was more than happy to oblige. He liked working in the store room because he could work at his own pace, without having to constantly look up to see if someone was waiting to be checked out, or to see if someone was trying to shoplift something. Back in the drafty stockroom, he could just zone out and go about his business. He was more than a little bit of a loner and liked his space.

He was a thin young man, eighteen years of age, with dark hair and serious eyes. In fact, the eyes weren’t the only serious thing about Nate Spencer. His friends had often made fun of him for being such a sober individual, a ribbing that he took lightly and in good stride because it was true. Not that he was a downer or a party pooper, he was just…responsible all of the time. He’d tried to cut loose and do stupid things like climbing the water tower, but something always held him back. He didn’t know what it was, other than maybe it was just the way he’d been cut out. Nate Spencer wasn’t designed to be reckless, it seemed.

As he bent over to pick up a case of canned peaches, he heard a low whistle.

“Now, that’s the view I came all of the way over here for,” came a teasing, female voice.

Nate righted himself and turned to see Annie O’Donnell at the door. His heart tripped twice in his chest as he broke into a wide grin. Annie. All strawberry blond hair and shapely legs, a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. His Annie. Her green eyes shift to his shirt and her smile disappeared as she cocked her head to the side.

“Nate, what did I tell you about that?” she scolded lightly.

His gaze drifted downward. Emblazoned in white letters against the black shirt were the words “Flatlander Go Home.” Nate broke into a grin.

“It’s bad for business,” Annie said half-heartedly.

Nate crossed over to her and put his hands on her waist. “Maybe I should take it off, then,” he whispered against her ear, giving the lobe a little nip with his teeth.

Annie drew in a quick breath and giggled.

They’d been together pretty much since they were twelve years old. The O’Donnells moved to the area when Annie was in sixth grade and one look at her had smitten Nate. He would never forget the sight of her clutching her books to her chest, looking around in bewilderment at a sea of students, none of whom was paying any attention to her. But he had given her some attention, as was his caring and sympathetic spirit, even at that tender age.

He showed her around the school, helped her get to her classes, walked home with her each night. Eventually, they were old enough to date and with sweaty palms and a thumping heart Nate finally worked up the courage to ask her to a movie. From that point, they’d been inseparable. He couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else, and Annie had claimed the same.

Nate reached forward and pulled his petite girlfriend close to his chest, squeezing her mercilessly. Annie giggled again and protested in a muffle against his chest.

“What?” he asked, pulling back.

“I said you’re squishing me!” she laughed, her eyes bright.

Nate have her a little smile and a quick peck on the forehead. “Why are you here?” he murmured, his eyes following the soft lines of her face. He knew that she was supposed to be with her parents on this Saturday.

“I wanted to see you,” she said, sliding her hands under the back of his T-shirt, smoothing the strong muscles of his shoulders. At six feet tall, he was nearly a foot taller than her, so she had to drop her head back as far as it would go to look into his face.

“You ditched your parents just to come see me?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“Not entirely. They’re out front.”

“Doing what? Shopping for bait?”

Annie snorted a laugh. “Talking to your dad.”

Nate’s brow furrowed. It was odd that the O’Donnells would come here to talk to his father – it wasn’t like they were best of friends or anything.

Annie sighed. “Stop looking like that, Nate.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his stomach starting to churn. He hated it when he had these gut feelings.

Annie shrugged. “Nothing that I know of. Daddy just said he needed to talk to your dad about something. I don’t know what.” She didn’t seem concerned.

But Nate was. Annie’s father was an attorney of some sort, but as far as Nate knew his father had never hired his services. There was something strange going on here and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“So, do you want to come?”

Nate looked down into Annie’s waiting face and realized he’d daydreamed through her question. “I’m sorry – what?”

She gave a little frown and slid her hands from his shirt. “Where are you lately, Nathan?”

Ut oh. She’d called him Nathan. That was never a good sign. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently.

“Ever since I started school, you’ve been like this,” she explained, stepping back out of his embrace.

Nate sighed and slid his hands into his pockets. “Like what?”

“Evasive.”

He snorted a laugh. “I’m not being evasive – I just didn’t hear your question is all.”

“Okay then – preoccupied. You didn’t hear my question because you were preoccupied.” She cocked her head to the side, challenging him to disagree with her.

Nate knew better. She was a master arguer and he would never win. Besides, she was right – he had been preoccupied. Preoccupied with visions of drowning children and memories he did and didn’t remember.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “You’re right – I have been preoccupied.”

Annie’s eyebrows lifted slightly at his confirmation. Then a wave of sympathy washed over her and she stepped forward to put her arms around him. Cradling the back of his head, she pushed his cheek down to her shoulder, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

“I know you hate it here,” she said softly against his ear. “I know you wanted to go to school with me. And I know that some day you will. It’s temporary, staying here to help out your dad.”

Nate straightened, a small frown marring his handsome features. “I hope you’re right,” he told her. “You don’t know how much I hope you’re right.” She hadn’t been totally correct about the source of his distraction, but close enough to avert an argument.

She gave him a short kiss, just a tease of what may come later. “So, say you’ll come.”

Nate grinned. “Okay, I’ll come.”

She beamed and gave a laugh.

“Where am I going?” he question, laughing with her.

“Chris is having a party tonight at their cabin. Sort of the last hurrah before they board the place up for the winter.”

Chris was a Flatlander, an immigrant from PA who had formed a friendship with Annie several summers ago. As Flatlanders went, Nate didn’t mind Chris so much.

Annie’s eyes traveled downward. “Only…lose the shirt.”

Nate laughed and gave her a quick hug. “Of course I’ll go…if only to help them board up the place and get rid of another one of them.”

Annie squealed and smacked him on the arm. “You’re horrible, Nate!”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I know.”

Eventually, Annie left Nate to his duties so he could finish up and leave in time for the party. He worked swiftly, pushing worries to the back of his mind and concentrating on seeing his friends instead. When he finished in the storeroom, he re-entered the store front to find Mr. O’Donnell saying goodbye to his father. Nate stopped in his tracks – he’d been working for over an hour and yet his father and Mr. O’Donnell had needed that entire time to finish up their business. Nate’s stomach twisted again and he swallowed hard as he watched Annie’s father leave the store. Then he looked back to find his father looking directly at him.

In his hand was a brown envelope and somehow in his gut Nate knew there was something about him inside of it. But it wasn’t just a gut feeling this time.

It was also reflected in his father’s defeated, broken expression.

tbc

Hey! Thanks for your comments, everyone And look how many of your figured out who Nathan is! Nice to be back after a nice little break

I shamelessly borrowed a line from "River Dog"...it will be obvious which one


Part Two

Dinner was never a lively affair at the Spencer household; both Jonathan and Emma were laid-back individuals and their son had always carried a quiet demeanor himself. But on this particular night, there seemed to be a dark cloud hanging over the old oak table, forcing everyone into silence. The only sounds in the dining room were the scrapings of utensils on plates.

Head bent to his dinner, Nate watched his parents from beneath his bangs, looking for some hidden indication that Mr. O’Donnell’s visit had been anything but welcome. As per usual, however, his father was stoically downing his meal while his mother picked as hers as though she had no appetite.

They were older than most of Nate’s friends’ parents, already in their fifties. He’d never thought much of it, as people had babies at all ages, though he did find it strange that he was their one and only offspring – it didn’t quite stick to the requisite 2.5 kids the average American family was supposed to have. Such things weren’t discussed openly in the Spencer house, so Nate often mused that maybe he’d been their miracle baby, that after years of unsuccessful attempts at trying, they’d finally been blessed with him. He liked that idea, it made him feel like he had a purpose in life. After all, the Spencers had been kind people, good parents; it was the least he could do for them.

Nate cleared his throat and picked at a piece of roast beef with the prongs of his fork. “Um, there’s a party tonight,” he announced, his voice sounded suddenly very loud in the silence of the dining room.

Emma’s face lit up. “A party! How wonderful!”

Nate hesitated slightly – his mother was over reacting to things. Something was definitely up. “Yeah, Annie’s friend Chris – remember her? – is closing up their cabin, so…”

Emma gave her son a warm smile. “Nathan, you know you don’t have to ask permission to go to a party.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging slightly. “I just wanted you to know where I was going.”

She beamed, proud of his courteous behavior. “Well, thank you for thinking of us.”

He gave her a half smile and returned to spinning his fork in a slow circle. He wanted to ask about that brown envelope, which had mysteriously vanished in the last couple of hours, but he couldn’t just blurt out, “Hey, Pops – what was in the envelope?” He needed to be more cautious than that.

“I was…um, a little surprised to see Annie today,” he began tentatively, watching his father from his peripheral vision. The man hesitated only for an instant, but it was enough that Nate knew he’d hit on dangerous territory.

“Well, why should you be surprised?” Emma asked, sounded overly-dumbfounded. “You two have been attached at the hip since elementary school.”

Nate gave a placating smile. “That’s true,” he agreed. “It’s just that I thought she and her parents were going away this weekend. I didn’t quite understand what would be so important that they’d change their plans.” He looked straight as his mother as he spoke.

Emma cleared her throat and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. She was acting nervous, Nate noted, the sinking feeling in his gut increasing. When she didn’t answer, he turned to his father for an explanation.

Jonathan swallowed his mouthful and sat back in his chair. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, son.”

Nate’s eyebrows rose. So it was something. “Are you okay? Is it something with the store?”

His father shook his head. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated. “Everything is fine.”

“Is it money? Because if it is, I have my savings –“

“I said – it’s nothing for you to fret over,” Jonathan said sternly without ever raising his voice and Nate sank back into his chair, his eyes falling into his lap.

From the other end of the table, Nate heard his mother let out a tired sigh. They both knew how his father was – he was a kind man, but he could be headstrong and stubborn as well. If he said this was the end of the discussion, then it was the end. But that didn’t change the fact that Nate still knew nothing about the envelope or why his father had looked so stricken when it had been presented to him.

“Can I be excused?” he mumbled.

“Oh, honey, you’ve barely touched your dinner,” Emma pleaded.

“I’m not very hungry.” That was no lie – Nate felt like he wanted to vomit.

“Okay then.”

He rose cautiously from the table, gave his father an apologetic look, then retreated to the attic space of the family’s small bungalow. Long ago, the Spencers had converted the attic into Nate’s bedroom. Large, with slanted ceilings and dormer windows, it was every child’s dream bedroom. The room had gone through many metamorphoses, first with Burt and Ernie adorning the walls, then various sports heroes, to a few Budweiser girls before finally becoming the more adult room it now was. Nate snorted at the irony as he flopped down onto the plaid comforter – he had an adult room but still felt compelled to ask for permission to leave the dinner table. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get out and there was no avenue for him to take.

Exhausted, he dropped his forearm over his eyes and tried to sooth his churning belly. Bad things were going to happen, he just knew it. Of course, he didn’t know how he knew it, but he did nonetheless. What was in that envelope? For the first time in his life, he felt the need to snoop on his parents, to go through their things when they left the house to find the offending envelope and see what was inside of it. Why were they both acting so strangely? What could possibly be so harmful that they couldn’t be honest with him about it? After all, they’d been a pretty open family before. Why was this different?

Their reluctance to talk about it only affirmed Nate’s belief that it had something to do with him.

“Wake up, sleepy.”

Nate popped open his eyes, not even realizing he’d fallen asleep. Annie was astride him, a wicked grin on her face.

“I came all of the way up here,” she taunted. “Knocked on your door, climbed onto your bed and straddled you – without waking you up.”

He grinned with one corner of his mouth.

“I could have…” Annie’s green eyes followed her hand as it slid down his chest, across his abdomen and grasped his crotch firmly. “…raped you.”

Nate let out a groan and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t get started,” he reprimanded gently. “You know my mom and dad are downstairs.”

She nodded, only tightening her grip. “Yeah, I know. Frustrating, isn’t it?”

In a flash, Nate flipped over so that she was pinned beneath him. She let out a squeal of surprise. “Not so funny now, is it?” he teased. “And for all of your teasing, little lady, you know what you get?”

Her eyes were round. “What?”

He shrugged. “Tickled to death.”

“What?! Nate, no!”

But it was too late. He set about tickling her ribs until she was squirming and laughing uncontrollably beneath him. He laughed with her, relieved to have a release from some of the stress of the day. Eventually he stopped and hovered over her while she regained her breath.

“You’re evil!” she chided.

He nodded, pulling a strand of hair away from her face. “Marry me,” he said, his eyes creasing with a smile. “Have my babies.”

Annie’s smile matched his own as she waggled her fingers before his face, showing off the ring he’d placed there only a month ago. “I already said I would.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

“Not yet. But I might if you don’t get off me so we can go to that party.”

On the drive to Chris’s cabin, Nate sat silently behind the wheel of his beat up, rusty pickup truck, Annie tucked in close by his side. When he inhaled, he breathed in the sweet smell of her perfume, the clean scent of her hair. In an instant, he recalled one memory that would never elude him – the night they first made love.

It had happened nearly three years before, when Nate and Annie were still only fifteen. They both knew they were still young, but nothing had seemed more right at that moment than being with one another. They’d made several attempts previously, several times disrobing entirely and then deciding the time wasn’t quite right. But that night, under a sky full of stars, on a blanket after 4th of July fireworks, everything had seemed right.

The thing that Nate couldn’t forget was the way she had looked at him, so vulnerable and yet so strong all at once. It was in that moment that he realized what an enormous amount of trust they shared, that they would probably never share with anyone else. In short, Nate trusted Annie with his life, and he assumed it was mutual.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, snuggling close to him.

He gave his characteristic half-smile. “Making love to you for the first time.”

A slight flush colored her cheeks, dark enough that Nate could see it in the light from the dashboard. “The first time? What about all the times after that?”

He looped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “I liked those, too, but that one’s special. It always will be.”

There was a small throng of people at Chris’s cabin, too many people for the small space to hold. As a result, half-drunk partiers had spilled outside, some of them huddled together to ward off the early-autumn chill in the air. Nate pulled the truck to a stop, then pulled Annie out behind him. Holding hands, they made for the entrance, but not before Eddie, Chris’s inebriated boyfriend, stumbled toward them.

“Townie!” he spouted, bumping drunkenly into Nate and spilling beer down the leg of his pants.

Nate pushed him away with mild irritation.

“Get some brew, dude!” Eddie shouted. “The keg’s out back!” With that, he stumbled off to accost someone else.

Nate wiped at his leg, disgust evident on his face.

“You okay?” Annie asked.

He nodded, then mumbled, “Friggin’ Eddie.”

She snorted, then took him by the hand and led him into the cabin.

It had been a bad day, by all accounts, the only good thing being that Annie’s presence was unexpected and pleasant. But there had been mysterious visits by the attorney, secretive brown envelopes, evasive memories and drowning children to deal with. So, totally out of character, Nate decided to do some drowning of his own – he dove headlong into a vat of home-made wine. A few hours later, he’d forgotten all about ‘Friggin’ Eddie’ and was greeting visitors himself.

“Try the wine,” he called after a couple of giggling girls as he waved his plastic cup in the air.

Annie snorted a laugh and held out a hand to steady him. She’d seen him drunk before – but only once. It was a rarity and not unamusing. “You’re drunk,” she observed.

He paused, shrugged, then laughed. “I am!”

“Why don’t we go sit down?” she suggested, taking him by the arm and leading him toward the lake.

On the shore, Annie located a rock she and Chris used to sunbathe on and pulled Nate down beside her. His head was buzzing and he was momentarily enthralled by the sound of the gentle waves lapping the shore.

“How much did you drink?”

He turned to face his girlfriend, his world spinning a bit…not that the sensation was at all unpleasant. “I dunno. But this shit is good, Annie dear. Good.”

She giggled and put her arms around him. “You know I love you, right?”

He nodded, his head rubbing against hers. “And I love you.”

“More than life itself,” she grinned.

Nate’s smile faded as the trials of the day threatened to deflate his mood. “More than life itself,” he repeated solemnly.

Annie took his face between her hands. “Why are you so sad?” she asked, studying his eyes.

He blinked slowly. “Because I let a boy drowned.”

She withdrew slightly. “That’s not true, Nate. It was an accident.”

“I should have been able to stop it from happening,” he confessed, resting his forehead against hers.

“Can you hear yourself?” she asked gently. “You’re not God, Nate. You saved three other kids. You did what you could.”

“I should have done better.” Leaning back, he took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “It was my responsibility,” he whispered.

Annie’s brow furrowed in confusion, but soon she was buried beneath his next kiss as he lowered her to the rock.

Nate let himself fall into the sensation of being with her, of tasting her, of touching her. Annie would always heal all of his wounds. He had just about forgotten where he was when something screamed across his brain, a flash of images so severe that he gasped in surprise, casting Annie aside. He heard shrieks of pain, saw splatters of blood, felt the sensation of moving very quickly, and then it was over.

“My God!” Annie breathed heavily, grabbing hold of Nate’s arm. “What just happened to you?!”

Shaking from the experience and without really understanding why, Nate turned his face to the sky. To the formation of stars that had suddenly drawn his attention.

The same cluster of stars that had drawn his attention for as long as he could remember.

tbc

Hey everyone! I'll try to fb fb later

Part Three

I’m going to be sick…nope, I’m okay…nope, I’m going to be sick…

Nate lay on his stomach on his bed, his fists clenched around matted bunches of his sheet. The room was tilting every now and then and he was afraid he was going to tumble off the mattress and onto the floor. For all he knew, the floor had turned into a bottomless pit that was going to swallow him up. His heart was slamming into his ribs with a heavy thud, his temples throbbing in the wake of each beat. The inside of his mouth was dry, like someone had lined it with cotton.

I’m going to be sick…

“Nate? Sweetie?”

He cracked open one eye long enough to see his mother bent at the waist, peering into his face, then he shut it again as light drilled all of the way to the back of his skull.

“You okay?” Emma asked.

He shook his head barely perceptibly.

“Are you sick?”

He nodded, wishing she’d go away.

“Did you drink too much?”

He nodded again. Yes, he was underage. Yes, he’d been warned about abusing alcohol. But Emma Spencer was not a stupid woman – she knew a hangover when she saw one.

“Drink plenty of water,” she reminded, her tone void of reprimand. “Sleep it off. When you feel better, come downstairs. Your father and I want to talk to you.”

Nate didn’t hear her leave – he was already willing his body to go back to sleep. His mind, however, had other ideas. There were so many ghosts of late, so many things haunting him. First that memory he couldn’t really remember, then the thoughts of the boy falling through the ice, and this last little incident he couldn’t even explain or describe.

What frightened him most was now that he was regaining sobriety, he wasn’t even really sure it happened. The thing that haunted him was the look on Annie’s face – she’d seemed terrified of him, of whatever had happened. Nate needed an explanation for it, but his recollection of the event was slipping away quickly. Maybe it had all been a hallucination…

High blood-alcohol finally claimed him and he slipped into an intoxicated slumber. While in his catatonic state, he saw an image glide through his subconscious. It was the face of a young man with troubled eyes but a kind smile, a face familiar but strange all at the same time. The image didn’t last long and wasn’t accompanied by any feelings of distress or danger; it merely entered Nate’s mind and slowly departed again.

The next time he awoke, the pounding was gone from his head and his stomach had calmed down significantly. His body felt the abuse, however, as he sat up and the world spun in a slow circle. Closing his eyes, he regained his balance and pushed himself to his feet.

I’m never doing that again, he thought to himself as he slowly took the stairs to the main floor of the bungalow. Annie must be so pissed at me…

He didn’t remember taking Annie home or bringing himself home, for that matter. As he passed the hallway window, he glanced into the drive and saw that his truck was missing and easily put together the pieces of the puzzle – his faithful fiancé had dragged his drunk ass home then drove herself home in his truck. He sighed – apologies (and possibly flowers) were in order.

In the bathroom, Nate brushed his teeth, trying to scrub away the film the wine had left in his mouth. Then he gargled repeatedly with mouthwash, but the lingering taste of the alcohol was still there. He grimaced and wiped his mouth on a towel, then drank cup after cup of water. On about the fourth cup, he realized that his stomach was starting to churn and maybe he needed to slow down.

The house was unusually quiet. It was a rainy afternoon and someone had started a fire in the fireplace in the living room; it was so quiet Nate could hear the wood crackling out in the hallway. As he cautiously rounded the corner, he found both of his parents sitting on the couch, looking directly at him. His mother seemed fretful, his father troubled.

On the coffee table lay the brown envelope.

Nate’s eyes fell to it immediately and he looked quickly back to his parents. Inside of his ailing body, his heart started to pump a little faster, making him light-headed and woozy.

“Come in here, Nate,” his father ordered in his usual monotone.

Swallowing past his apprehension, Nate stepped into the living room and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his shoulders rising sharply with the action; it made him appear meeker than he was.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” Emma said, overly-chipper, smiling anxiously.

Nate rounded the wing-back chair and sat down uneasily. Was it too late to go back upstairs and get back into bed? As a reflex, his eyes flitted to the clock on the mantel – it was already three in the afternoon.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s wrong?”

Emma tried to smile again, but it was weak and useless. “Nate, you know we love you very much.”

He blinked a couple of times, then realized she wasn’t asking him a rhetorical question so he nodded.

“You’ve always been very special to us,” she continued. “Such a good boy, always polite and considerate.”

Her words were doing nothing to quell the growing fear in his stomach. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t drunk all of that water.

“Um, thank you,” he replied lamely.

Jonathan shifted in his seat and Nate noticed him eye the envelope on the table. What was in there that caused his father such distress? Emma appeared to have noticed the action as well, as she reached over and put a hand on her husband’s leg.

“We have something to tell you,” she started even as she was waiting for Jonathan’s agreement. He nodded his head once and Nate thought he saw hope drain from his whole body.

“What is it?” he asked, more worried now than he had been when that envelope had first arrived yesterday. “Is someone sick?”

Another nervous smile. “No, honey, nothing like that.” She cleared her throat and straightened her sweater. “Long ago, we agreed that when you turned eighteen, we’d tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” Nate was so taken off guard that the words came out in a high-pitched squeak. “And I turned eighteen three months ago, by the way.” Why had they waited so long to tell him ‘the truth’?

Emma shifted in her seat. “I know, dear, but we wanted to make sure we were doing the right thing.” Jonathan put his hand over hers and squeezed as a gesture of reassurance. “And we think we are…doing the right thing.”

Unable to handle the suspense, Nate started to fidget, chewing his thumbnail and pumping his knee. “Please, Mom, just tell me.”

The Spencers shared a long look, then Emma drew in a deep breath. “You came to us when you were eight months old,” she announced.

Nate’s leg stopped moving and his hand fell to his lap. The room was silent except for the ticking of the mantel clock and the snap of the logs in the fireplace. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“You mean I was born a month early?” he asked, struggling to understand why that would be such a heavily-guarded secret.

Emma released a surprised, nervous laugh. “No, sweetie. As far as we know, you were born at term. When you came to live with us, you were already eight months old.”

That didn’t make sense. How could they not know if he was born early? And why wouldn’t they have been able to bring him home for eight months? Had he been ill as a baby? None of this made sense to Nate’s hung-over, troubled mind.

Emma and Jonathan exchanged a worried glance and it was obvious neither of them wanted to say the word aloud. It was Jonathan who spoke.

“Annie’s grandfather handled the legal end of it, entrusting Annie’s father to carry out our wishes before he died.”

“Legal end of what?” Nate asked, shaking his head. Then in a suddenly spurt of clarity, the truth came crashing down on him. The air rushed out of his lungs as though someone had sucker punched him in the gut. Reaching down, he grabbed the arms of the chair to steady himself. In a matter of three minutes, his entire world had been rocked. “Oh, God…”

Emma started to get up, but Jonathan urged her to reclaim her seat.

Nate covered his mouth, the taste of mouthwash and toothpaste threatening to gag him. “Oh, my God…”

“Sweetie,” Emma pleaded. “We’ve always loved you as our own. Surely you must know that.”

Nate met her eyes and realized how desperate she was, how afraid she was that he was angry with her. Truth was that his emotions were so jumbled up he didn’t know how he felt. “You adopted me,” he said flatly.

Jonathan looked to the floor, almost as though he was ashamed, as Emma nodded her head, tears coming to her blue eyes.

“You aren’t my parents,” Nate said in defeat.

“We are,” Emma assured him. “In every way but biologically.”

Nate covered his eyes. “Oh, God…”

The room fell silent again as he tried to control the sickness in his body, the sick feeling in his heart.

“Son,” Jonathan said.

Nate lifted his head. Son? It had a whole new ring to it now. He felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Jonathan picked up the envelope. “There was a mutual agreement between us and the people who put you up for adoption. We agreed that once you turned eighteen, if you should ever want to know the details, you’d be able to.” He dropped the envelope onto the table. “That’s yours. If you want it.”

Nate’s gaze fixed on the envelope but his mind couldn’t fathom its significance. He was still reeling from finding out he wasn’t who he thought he was. Would opening that envelope be like opening Pandora’s Box? Were there things in there he should just leave alone?

He couldn’t think about it. Not today. Not while he was haunted by dead children, screaming bloodbaths and a memory that wouldn’t stay put. Not while his body was rejecting the abuse it had taken the night before.

Drawing up as much composure as possible, Nate righted himself in his chair and regarded his adoptive family with as neutral a tone as possible.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “I’m not well today and I don’t want you to think that I’ve taken what you’ve said lightly. I’m not angry at you, but right now I just need to go back to bed.”

With that, he rose, excused himself like the well-brought-up person he was, and retreated to his bedroom. He fell forward onto his bed, unbelievably weary.

Lies. His whole life had been nothing but one big lie. What was in the envelope – more lies? Suddenly Nate wasn’t sure of anything – who he was, who his parents were, why he was where he was.

Unable to escape the fears and doubts, Nate retreated into thoughts of the only thing of which he was still certain.

Annie.

tbc

Part Four

The early-morning sunlight danced off the dew-soaked grass far below where Nate sat, turning the landscape into sparkling beauty. There was an autumn nip in the air and he had to drag his hands inside of his coat sleeves to return the warmth to them. When he was a child, he’d often escape here, to the tree house Jonathan had built in the woods for him. It was his “secret” hideaway, though his parents had always know that this was where he always went when he was mad at the world, upset about being scolded, pining over his beloved Annie. It wasn’t such a secret.

But the Spencers had never called him on it, had let him believe the fantasy that he was getting away with something. With a frown, he mused that on this Sunday morning they must also guess where he was, especially since Annie had yet to return his truck. But they were giving him space, letting him think. He respected that. The only contact he’d had with either of them since sequestering himself in his bedroom had been late the previous night when Emma had brought him a bowl of chicken soup for his ailing belly, her eyes full of apology. Nate had accepted the soup and even managed to give her a little smile as she’d turned to leave the room; as usual, his thoughts were not centered solely on himself.

Squinting against the rising sun, he thought about how difficult the last seventeen years must have been for his adoptive parents. They had to have known this day would come. Did they dread it every day? Or did they avoid even thinking about it until they could no longer deny the fact that their son was approaching that magic age? Whatever the answer, it had to have been discomfiting to live with that knowledge.

As he’d been doing since he’d found out the truth, Nate questioned himself repeatedly. What did this mean? How did it change his relationship with Jonathan and Emma? Up until now, he’d never even considered that he was adopted – after all, he had his mother’s blue eyes…or at least he’d always thought so. Did the fact that he was adopted really change the fact that the Spencers were good people, that they’d raised him to be a good person himself? In the end, did it matter at all?

It did. It might not make them less wonderful, but it changed who Nate was. The worst part – he didn’t know who he was. Things that were taken for granted were no longer absolutes. Nothing was what it seemed.

“Hey, you freakin’ alcoholic, what’re you doing up there?”

Nate couldn’t stop the grin from coming to his face as he leaned out and looked to the ground where Annie was shielding her eyes against the sun. She was wearing her Clarion University sweatshirt and looking every bit the collegiate student he wasn’t. “Why don’t you come up and find out?”

Returning his smile, she climbed the ladder to the tree house. When she was within reach, Nate took hold of her arm to help her up. With a thud, she plopped down on the floor beside him, then craned her neck this way and that, observing some of the graffiti that had been etched into the wooden walls. Laughing, her fingers traced a heart with the initials NS and AO in it; Nate had carved it there before Annie had vowed her undying love to him.

“I remember this,” she smiled.

Nate breathed a small laugh. He remembered it, too. What an awkward, gawky Poindexter he’d been at fourteen.

“So, where were you yesterday?” Annie asked, dropping her hand and any sense of pretense.

“I wasn’t well,” he answered quietly.

“A little hung over, were we?” Annie giggled. “Man, I’ve never seen you drink so much.” Her mood clouded over for a moment. “Maybe that was the reason.”

Nate tipped his head to the side. “The reason for what?”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “You don’t remember screaming like a friggin’ banshee for no apparent reason?”

He tried to prevent it, but he knew that he failed in keeping himself from turning pale. He’d been fighting to remember the weirdness that had occurred by the lake, but it was a drunken, elusive memory. “Not really,” he mumbled.

Annie waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. We’ll just chalk it up to your drunkenness. I tried to call your cell yesterday.”

Not entirely comfortable, Nate scratched behind his ear, a dead give-away that he was hiding something.

“What’s that for?” Annie yelped, recognizing the sign. “Did something happen? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Drawing in a deep breath and trying to remain calm, Nate slowly broke the news to Annie that he was adopted. Her emerald eyes were round, but they seemed to be lacking something he’d expected to see there…

“So,” he concluded, looking down at the grass below them. “I kind of holed up in my room to think things through.”

“Wow,” she said and Nate realized what her actions were missing – surprise.

He eyed her curiously. “Did you already know, Annie?”

She maintained eye contact and shook her head in denial, but for the first time in their relationship, Nate doubted her sincerity.

But he had other things to deal with and decided to let her behavior slide.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Your dad gave my dad an envelope with some information of some kind in it.” He shook his head and wearily rubbed his eyes.

“What kind of information?” Annie asked.

“I don’t know. Stuff about the adoption, I guess.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

Nate dropped his hand and lifted an eyebrow in her direction. She seemed rather unaffected by finding out that her fiancé wasn’t who she thought he was. Her smile was bright and curious, encouraging. Maybe that was it – maybe she was just trying to be supportive.

“Maybe,” he answered. “Part of me is afraid to.” He snorted a laugh of embarrassment. No guy liked to admit he was afraid of something.

Reaching out, Annie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. In the meantime, you know I’m leaving today to go back to school, right?”

That was it? She was switching topics that quickly? Nate couldn’t understand why this wasn’t as devastating to her as it was to him. Then again, every now and then Annie appeased her own agenda regardless of what was going on around her. It was one of her flaws and Nate had long ago accepted it for what it was.

“I know,” he replied.

“So, I’ve been home for a whole weekend and you and I haven’t had you know what not even once.” She laughed. “It might be Thanksgiving before I’m home again, Nate.”

Nate grinned. Okay, so this “agenda” was going to pay dividends for him as well. “What do you suggest?” he asked. “Dropping and doing in here in the tree house?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

Speechless, his eyes grew round as she reached for the bottom of her sweatshirt. “Um, it’s chilly this morning,” he warned lamely.

As Annie dropped her shirt behind herself, she looked down at her breasts, her nipples evident through the thin material of her bra. “Obviously.”

*****

When Nate returned home an hour later, debating whether he had splinters in his ass, he found his mother in the kitchen making preparations for dinner. Sunday was a special day in the Spencer house – no matter what was going on, no matter how busy things were, they always sat down as a family and ate dinner together. Often, Emma would start a roast mid-morning and let it simmer all day long, as she was doing on this day.

Nate stopped in the doorway, shoved his hands into his pockets. “Morning, Mom,” he said softly.

She turned on her heel and gave him a grin. “Ah, Nathan. You hungry, sweetheart? You didn’t come for breakfast.”

“I was out,” he said.

“Annie catch up with you?” Emma asked as she returned to slicing onions for the roast.

She’d caught up with him – and then some. “Yeah,” he answered. “Um, Mom?”

At the cautious tone in his voice, she turned and regarded him silently, waiting patiently for him to finish his thought.

“Where’s Dad?” Nate asked.

“Fishing,” Emma said.

It wasn’t unusual for Jonathan to fish on Sunday mornings. He loved the lake, loved sitting on the pier or taking out his row boat. Often, Nate had accompanied him.

“I made a decision,” Nate said uneasily.

He saw just a hint of apprehension in her eyes. “Okay, honey.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes darting away briefly. “I want to open it. I want to open the envelope.”

Emma swallowed, then nodded in agreement, giving him permission that he didn’t need to request.

“Do you already know what’s in it?” he asked, a hint of tremor in his voice.

She gave him an apologetic smile and shook her head. “No, Nate. That’s for you to find out.”

He nodded, looked at his feet and then walked into the living room. The envelope was still lying where Jonathan had dropped it. Nate stood over it, looking at it like it could sting him if he got too close. Did he really want to open it? Did he really want to know?

If he left it alone, then life could stay as it was, right? He’d continue to be the natural child of Emma and Jon Spencer. Wasn’t that true?

It couldn’t be true. Because even if Nate never opened the envelope, he would still know that he wasn’t really the natural child of Emma and Jon Spencer. There was no rolling back time and erasing what had been revealed yesterday. If time could be altered, then Nate knew that a child who had once fallen through the ice would still be alive today. No, there was no going back.

Quickly, as if the envelope would skitter away from him, Nate snatched it from the table and headed for his bedroom. Inside, he closed the door quietly behind himself and sat down on the bed. The envelope wasn’t heavy and he doubted there was much more than a few pieces of paper inside. Both dreading and anticipating opening it, he dragged it beneath his nose, inhaling, looking for the smell of anything that might give him an idea of where it had come from – cigar smoke, the smell of food, anything. All he smelled was paper.

Closing his eyes and mustering his courage, Nate pulled open the flap of the envelope and reached inside. Pulling out several pieces of paper, his blue eyes scanned over them quickly, taking in everything and nothing all at once. Telling himself to calm down and slow down, he drew in a breath and regarded the first paper.

It was a court document, signing over custody of Nate, then unnamed, to Jonathan and Emma Spencer. At the bottom were his parents’ signatures, his mother’s neat and womanly, his father’s rough and barely legible. Nate made note of the date but found nothing else interesting on the page.

The next set of pages, stapled together, was written on the letterhead of the law offices of Philip Evans in Roswell, New Mexico. It was a contract of some kind, laying out the stipulations of accepting the baby into the Spencer home. Nate sat back and read it in detail, the churning returning to his stomach. He saw the clause that said he wasn’t to know about his adoption until he’d reached legal age. It was an odd thing to include in an adoption and it only increased his uneasiness. What he found on the last page nearly pushed him over the edge.

He had no birth certificate. No hospital records. No indication of who his birth parents had been. It simply stated that he’d been abandoned. Inside of his heart, Nate felt a pain he’d never thought possible.

Not only was he not Emma and Jon Spencer’s son – he was nobody’s son.

tbc

Well, that Dr. Behr does good work! I felt good enough to write the next part!


Part Five

Things were starting to make sense now, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. As Nate walked toward the lake, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, he thought back on things that had always seemed a bit odd, but never really clicked as being a problem.

Like, where were all of the pictures of him as a newborn? Annie’s parents had tons of pictures of her only hours after she’d been born, still in the hospital, wearing that tiny little pink stocking hat. But the Spencers had no pictures of Nate in his little blue hat. In fact, they had no pictures of him at all until he was a good-sized baby. Until now, he hadn’t thought much about it – a baby picture was a baby picture to him, regardless of the size of the baby. It never occurred to him that something was missing.

There were a dozen other things like that that now seemed painfully obvious, but for every one thing that made sense, there were a dozen more that didn’t.

Why did an attorney put him up for adoption?

Why was he abandoned?

Why did someone from New Mexico bring him all of the way to New York to place him with a family? Weren’t there families in New Mexico who wanted an infant? From what Nate had always heard, infants were in short supply and usually were adopted quickly. So why travel the huge distance?

Why was it legally stipulated that he couldn’t know he was adopted until he was eighteen?

Nate kicked at a rock and frowned. Two days ago, he’d just been Nathan Spencer, yearning to go to school with his fiancé and put the bait shop business behind him. Now he hadn’t a clue who he was and would give nearly anything to just be back in the fishing business instead of dealing with all of these questions.

Ahead of Nate, Jonathan sat in a lawn chair at the end of the pier, his fishing rod propped against the arm of the chair. Nate stopped walking and drew in a deep breath. His father looked so peaceful where he was, basking in the Sunday afternoon sun, and he hated to disturb him. But he had to do what he had to do.

Nate’s shoes made hollow thumping sounds as he walked the length of the pier and then sat down with his feet dangling over the edge. Jonathan looked at him wordlessly.

“Catch anything?” Nate asked, squinting against the glare the sun cast on the water.

“Nothing worth keeping,” Jonathan answered.

Nate nodded and continued to look across the lake. After a few moments, he added, “I opened the envelope.” He waited for a response and got none. Looking over his shoulder, he found his father looking at him with his poker face firmly in place.

“Did you?” the older man asked.

Nate nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did you find?” Jonathan picked up his tackle box and started fiddling with some lures; it was typical of him to busy his hands in an uncomfortable situation.

“You don’t know?” Nate asked, a little surprised that his adoptive father didn’t know all there was to know.

Jonathan shook his head.

“Oh.” Nate blinked a couple of times, then decided his father wasn’t being coy – he really didn’t know. “There, uh, there wasn’t much there.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “No. The adoption papers – that you and Mom signed.”

Jonathan grunted in understanding, his fingers tying a knot around a bobber.

“And a contract from someone in New Mexico.”

Jonathan gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah?”

Nate nodded. “Yeah. Really, not much there.”

“Huh.”

They sat for a while longer, in silence. Nate waited for his father to take the initiative, but Jonathan wasn’t a man of many words.

“Why New Mexico, Dad?” he finally asked.

Jonathan put his tackle box down and folded his hands between his knees. “I don’t know, really.”

“Didn’t you find that strange? Why didn’t they place me with a home in New Mexico?”

He drew in a breath and Nate could tell that he’d never contemplated the question. “Nate, we were just happy to have you,” he said in resignation. “We didn’t care where you came from.”

That comment sent up a warning signal in Nate’s head and he began to feel that familiar twisting in his gut. “Oh, God. Was I a black market baby of some kind?” His voice rose in pitch as he finished the sentence.

At that, Jonathan chuckled. “No, Nate. We didn’t buy you illegally, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nate blew out a sigh and relaxed a bit. “Thank God.” Another silence ensued, during which the questions kept mounting. “Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did they want you to keep my adoption secret until I was eighteen?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I don’t know. At the time, we didn’t care. We would have agreed to just about anything to get you.”

Nate’s brow furrowed. “But, I mean, what legal ramifications were there if you hadn’t done that? Why didn’t you just tell me once I was old enough to understand?”

Jonathan looked as though his son had just struck him. “I doubt if they would have thrown me into jail if I had told you, but that’s not what I agreed to, Nate. I gave my word, I signed a legal document. If nothing else, be a man of your word. There’s nothing worse than a liar.”

Nate withdrew, ashamed at having even asked that question. Growing up, the thing that would get him punished the quickest was fibbing – he should have seen that reaction coming. “I’m sorry, dad,” he mumbled.

Jonathan waved him off with a hand and picked up his fishing pole. They sat there for a while longer, until the man finally sighed and addressed his son.

“I know that this can’t be easy for you,” he began. “Your mom and I knew this day would come.”

“It didn’t have to,” Nate pointed out. “You could have never told me the truth.”

Jonathan lifted an eyebrow. “Is that what you would want? Would you want to never know who you are?”

Nate worked his mouth, then shook his head. What if he found out he was adopted after both of his parents had passed away and then never got any answers? That would be so much worse than this.

“Besides, it’s your right to know,” Jonathan continued. “If it weren’t for the legal agreement, we would have told you years ago. We felt like we were lying to you by not letting you know. That’s why I called Annie’s dad and asked him to bring those papers here. I knew he had them, and your mom and I decided it was time.”

He gave the pole a jerk and frowned. Nothing was biting today. “We tried for many years to have children, Nate,” he said sadly. “Either your mom would miscarry or we couldn’t get pregnant at all. After her last miscarriage, her doctor told her not to try again, that it could cost her her life.” Jonathan gave him a small smile. “I couldn’t have that. I love my Emmie too much to see her die.”

Nate grinned in response. In truth, his father’s one-sided conversation was enthralling him – before now, Nate wasn’t sure he had the ability to string so many words together at once.

Jonathan tipped his head to the side. “So we started looking into adoption agencies. The waiting lists were long, years long, for babies. We were getting up in years and knew that we couldn’t wait fifteen years to get a child – we’d be too old to take care of it!” His gaze drifted away and Nate could see he was losing himself in his memories. “I knew Annie’s grandfather because he owned a cabin near the store. He came in every summer. We’d bullshit, every now and then have a beer or two. We weren’t best buddies or anything, but good acquaintances.”

Reaching down, he picked up his canteen and took a swig of water. “Then one day he came in and said he had a baby that needed a home – he knew we’d been wanting to start a family. He said it was a special case, that the people who were putting the baby up were asking for special considerations.” He shrugged. “So we asked him the specifics and it didn’t seem like anything we couldn’t agree to.” Jonathan glanced at his enraptured son. “And here you are.”

“Did you meet them?” Nate asked anxiously. “The people who put me up for adoption?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Nope. Never laid eyes on them. Annie’s grandfather brought you to us, had us sign the papers. End of story.”

For some reason, Nate didn’t feel entirely disappointed. True, he didn’t have any more concrete answers than he did when he’d walked down the pier, but at least he knew something of how he came to be with the Spencers.

“Nate?”

He looked up and met Jonathan’s gaze.

“Don’t repeat any of that baby stuff to your mom. It makes her sad.”

Nate nodded in understanding.

His father looked away for a moment, then gave him a tired look. “I know you have questions, I know you’re curious.”

Nate retreated a bit. “Dad, it’s not that I’m ungrateful for you and Mom –“

Jonathan held up a hand. “I believe you, son. But I can also imagine what it’s like to be in your shoes. I would want to know everything. Unfortunately, I don’t have any answers for you.”

Nate frowned.

“Sometimes, Nathan, a man has to do what a man has to do.”

Nate’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes grew round. “What are you saying?”

His father smiled a lopsided, understanding smile. “That you should get the answers you need. Don’t let this fester, Nate. Don’t dwell on maybes or what-ifs. Don’t let it consume you.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t know about that ulcer you’ve been working on.”

Nate breathed a laugh, his ears reddening at the fact his father knew him so well.

Jonathan gave a wave of his hand. “Go. Find your path. Find what you need to know.”

Excitement suddenly surged through Nate’s veins, replacing the anxiety that had been there for the past couple of days. An adventure laid ahead, one that would take him farther away from home than he’d ever been.

Nate was on his way to New Mexico.

tbc

*yawn* Good morning, everyone Thanks for the comments - I'll answer them when it's not after midnight


Part Six

“You’re going where?”

“Roswell,” Nate said, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall without really seeing it. His cell phone was cradled between his ear and shoulder as he listened to Annie’s shocked reaction.

“As in New Mexico?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

There was a brief pause, then Annie’s incredulous question, “Do you have any idea how far that is?”

“One thousand six hundred and fifty-nine miles,” he sighed. “I need to go, Annie. I need to find out where I came from.”

“How are you going to get there?”

“My truck.” Nate scratched his head, wondered why she was being so resistant to the idea of him going.

“Your truck?! Nate, I don’t trust that thing to take us from your place to the Dairy Queen around the corner and yet you want to drive all of the way to New Mexico with it?”

“I don’t have a choice, Annie. My dad needs the van for the store and I can’t afford to fly.”

“But you can afford the massive tow bill you’re going to have when you get stranded in bum-fuck Iowa?”

Nate cringed. He hated it when Annie swore. He hated it more that she was being so harsh about the whole thing. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. He was a passive person and entertaining her little outbursts when they arose wasn’t one of his favorite things.

“What’s wrong? Nate, you told me you couldn’t come to school with me because your dad needed you to help him with the store.” Her tone dripped with accusation.

“He does need my help,” he replied calmly.

“And yet you can take off for New Mexico at the drop of a hat? You can’t go away to school but you can take a goddamned vacation?”

Nate sighed again. “Annie, sweetheart, please stop cursing. This is hardly a vacation. I don’t want to go to New Mexico. I want to go to school with you. But right now I don’t have a choice. This situation presented itself and now I have to deal with it. Please understand.”

There was a strained silence and Nate imagined Annie rolling her eyes to the ceiling of her dorm room, shaking her head at his little predicament. He knew that she didn’t like to be bothered with others’ problems, but with her being away at school, he didn’t understand how his not being in New York would affect her in the slightest way.

“I won’t be gone long,” he said into the phone, deciding to gently point out to her that this trip had zero impact on her. “You said yourself that you probably won’t be home until Thanksgiving. I’ll be back by then, Annie. I’ll have my cell phone – you can call me any time you want to. I just…I just have to do this.”

When she spoke next, her voice was a little softer, her tone less confrontational. “Why, Nate? Why do you feel like you have to go now?”

He looked down at his shoes and kicked his toe against the leg of his nightstand. He hadn’t told her about the memories or the visions, those things that haunted him on a regular basis. “I have…memories in my head, Annie.”

“Memories? Of what?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I can almost see them and they disappear. I think maybe they have something to do with where I was before I was adopted. I need to find out what they mean.”

Annie’s tone switched again, this time to disbelief and a slight pitch of condescension. “That sounds weird, Nate.”

“I know it does. But it is what it is. So, I have to go. I promise you, I’ll call you every night, okay?”

On the other end of the line, she sighed heavily. “Alright, do what you gotta do. Just don’t get abducted.”

Nate gasped a surprised laugh. “What?”

“Roswell. You know – Area 51 and all of that nonsense. Aliens crashed there in the forties, don’t you remember?” Her voice was playful, teasing.

He laughed again. He’d never been interested in the whole sci-fi extraterrestrial business and the fact that he was from the alien capital of the US had totally eluded him. “I’ll try to keep the little green men at bay.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“I will. I love you Annie.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Without any further ceremony, she hung up.

The silence in Nate’s bedroom was almost deafening. Annie’s downplaying of the situation had deflated him a bit and put just a hint of doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing. If she wasn’t concerned about his origins, maybe he shouldn’t be concerned either.

But then his blue eyes landed on his bags, already packed and sitting at the end of the bed and he knew that he was going with or without Annie O’Donnell’s blessing.

Of course the trip might have been entirely unnecessary - he could have just picked up the phone and called the law office of Philip Evans, if indeed it still existed. That wasn’t going to satisfy his sense of curiosity, however. Nate needed to see, he needed to be back where his life had started, so he could understand who he was. It was important to him and maybe some day he’d be able to get Annie to understand that.

******

Nate barely slept that night, his mind constantly replaying the route he was going to take, how much money he had, Annie’s lack of support, what he might find at the end of his journey. As the sun was creeping over the mountaintops, he was already dressed, ready to make his way down to the truck to start his trip.

Before he could leave, Emma made him eat a big breakfast and he could tell that she was afraid that he would conserve money and not eat while he was out on the road. She’d made everything – pancakes, sausage, Canadian bacon, toast, eggs, orange juice. Truth was that Nate was feeling a little nauseous and didn’t really want to eat, but he couldn’t disappoint her. So he obediently had some of everything, all the while praying he wouldn’t throw it up two miles down the road.

Jonathan was quiet, but Nate wasn’t worried about that – it was his father’s way to be stoic, regardless of the situation. He ate along side his son, then quietly reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out some bills fastened together with a paperclip.

Nate eyed it curiously. “What’s that?”

“For you,” his father said, laying the money on the table between them.

Nate withdrew. “Oh, no, Dad. I can’t take that.”

Jonathan picked up his fork and continued eating. “You can and you will. Don’t worry about us – we have plenty of money. That’s a long trip you’re going on. I want you to stop and get a motel when you’re tired. I don’t want you driving it straight through.”

Nate looked a little sheepish – that’s exactly what he’d planned on doing.

“No sense in getting yourself hurt,” Jonathan mumbled, taking a sip from his coffee.

Nate swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. How hard was this for his parents, to watch him pack up and leave in search of his real parents? It was obvious that they cared a lot about him – were they afraid that he’d care less about them once he found what he was looking for?

“I packed the cooler.”

Nate broke from his reverie and swiveled to see his mother setting a small cooler by his bags.

“Just some sandwiches and some soda,” she said, her eyes flitting away from his. “So you don’t have to spend a lot on food.”

Nate felt something start to burn behind his eyes. Suddenly leaving was harder than he thought it was going to be. “Thank you, Mom.”

Jonathan sat back in his chair and gave a satisfied sigh, rubbed his slightly bulging belly. “Good breakfast, Ma.”

Nate bit his lip, a wave of apprehension washing over him. “Yep, good breakfast, Mom.”

“Thanks,” she answered, wringing her hands together. In a rush, she stepped forward and threw her arms around Nate, squeezing him so hard his fork dropped from his fingers. “You be careful, you understand? And call us, okay?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

“Okay, then.” With that, she released him, smoothed down her shirt and disappeared into the kitchen.

Nate turned wary eyes to his father.

“Your mom doesn’t like goodbyes,” he explained. “Come on, I’ll help you carry your stuff out.” He picked up the money and handed it to his son. “Put this in your pocket.”

Outside, Nate and Jonathan crammed his bags and the cooler into the passenger side of the truck – it had no cover for the back, so putting Nate’s belongings back there was pointless. Jonathan dropped an atlas onto the seat.

“If you get lost, pull over immediately,” he advised. “No point in driving forever if you don’t know where you are.”

“Okay,” Nate said, circling to the driver’s side of the truck.

“Check your oil every time you get gas – you know how this truck is.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

“Keep your headlights and windows clean. Once it gets dark, you’ll be happy that you did.”

“Makes sense.”

“Don’t pull over at rest stops after dark. If you need to pee, find a public place – McDonald’s or something. If you absolutely can’t hold it, always park under a security light.”

Nate gave him an amused smile, humored at his father’s sudden lecture on travel safety. “Okay.”

“Lock most of your money in your glove box – only keep what you absolutely need on your person.”

“Will do.”

“And, Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep that promise to call your mother. She worries about you.”

And so did he, Nate could see. “I will, Dad. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Jonathan opened the door for him and Nate climbed inside. “Watch your speed. I know what a lead foot you have.”

Nate stuck the key in the ignition and laughed. It was true that he sometimes liked to floor it.

“Be careful, son.”

He nodded, then turned the key. The truck started with a rumble. Jonathan closed the door and stepped back. As Nate backed out of the gravel driveway, he stole one last glance at his father standing beside the drive, his hands in the pockets of his flannel jacket.

For some unknown reason, Nate was suddenly uncertain that he would ever see him again.

tbc

Part Seven

Three days, one flat tire, a broken muffler strap and a hail storm outside of Lubbock later, Nate arrived in Roswell. He entered the town on its “good” side, passing a well-maintained high school and a very nice, very green public park that was obviously irrigated on a regular basis. But then he hit main street and found out how truly horrifying a tourist town could be. He was so dumbfounded at what he saw that he nearly rear-ended a car in front of him. Knowing he needed to gawk while stationary, he pulled into a parking spot on the street and simply stared in disbelief.

Everywhere he looked, he saw green aliens and UFOs – on every advertisement, on every store sign, on every corner of every street. Most of the store names bore some variation of the alien theme – Alan’s Alien Artworks, Out of this World Pizza, a game room called Meteorites and Missiles. There was a gas station in the shape of a huge flying saucer, a blow-up alien peeking out of its domed roof.

Nate realized his mouth was hanging open like a dying fish. How could anyone live here? Worse yet, what kind of people lived here? Maybe his birth parents had been nuts. A stupefying vision ran through his head, where his mother was someone who claimed to be abducted by aliens and that her son was an alien baby. He snorted and laughed hysterically for a few moments at the thought.

Soon, though, his thoughts returned to his mission. He was here to find Philip Evans, attorney at law. Nate craned his neck one way and then the next, looking down the dusty main street of Roswell. He didn’t see anything that looked like a law office, but then again maybe the office wasn’t on the main drag. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the brown envelope and looked at the address on the letterhead of the Evans office – nope, not on Main.

Nate shoved the papers back inside the envelope and sat back in the seat for a moment. Truth was, he wasn’t ready to confront Philip Evans; ironic, since he’d just spent three days doing not much more than thinking about meeting him. No, Nate needed to settle in first – get something to eat, get a motel room – and then he could confront the man who had handled his adoption.

But where to eat? He looked questioningly at some of the restaurants and none of them looked appealing. Sighing, he rolled up the windows of the truck, got out and locked it and started walking down the brick sidewalks of the city. Maybe something more appetizing would present itself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked at each storefront as he passed it. Within a few blocks, he realized that he was sweating. It was late September, for God’s sake! What – was it ninety degrees that day?

Before long, a building loomed into view that automatically caught his attention. It was a two-story brick building, but that’s not what made it notable. No, that would be the spaceship that had “crashed” into the front of it and was blinking with chasing lights, inviting him in. Nate read the name of the restaurant and raised one corner of his mouth in a smirk – The CrashDown.

It was as good a place to eat as any.

Nate had barely stepped through the front door when he found himself halting in his tracks again, the dying fish look back on his face. The place was loaded with alien memorabilia – paintings and murals on the walls, spacey light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, a ceramic alien greeting people at the door. In that moment, he decided he would never make fun of a Flatlander again – at least those people weren’t like this.

Stereotypical of one who travels alone, Nate ignored the booths and tables and slid in at the counter instead. Before he turned around to face the wall, he took in the patrons of the establishment – they looked to be mostly of high school age and suddenly Nate felt ancient. Sure, he’d graduated only four months prior, but high school was already starting to feel like a different lifetime.

“Hey, there, fella,” came a chipper female voice.

Nate swiveled in his chair and found a waitress standing on the other side of the bar. She was pretty, with dark blond hair, brown eyes and a set of full, glossy lips. But it wasn’t her beauty that stunned Nate – it was the silver-sequined tiara with the silver bobble antennas that she had perched atop her head. Unable to stop himself, his eyes rolled slowly upward, following the stems of the antennas until he reached the top.

The girl giggled. “Oh, boy. New in town, eh?”

Nate could feel his cheeks start to burn. “Um, yeah…” He looked at the oval silver plate pinned to the collar of her turquoise uniform. “Alyssa,” he said aloud.

Pulling her order pad from her apron, she cocked her head coyly to the side. “No fair! You know me, but I don’t know you.”

Nate’s eyebrows rose. She was flirting with him! Quickly he assessed her age – 15? Maybe 16? Jailbait, regardless. “I’m Nate,” he offered.

“Well, welcome to Roswell, Nate. What can I get you to drink while you decide what you want to eat?”

“Coke?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you asking me? Okay, sure, Coke.” She winked at him and moved to fill his drink.

Nate watched her go and laughed lightly to himself. He wasn’t used to girls flirting with him; he wasn’t unpopular in school, but in Chautauqua, the whole world knew that he was hopelessly in love with Annie. The girls simply never tried.

Opening up the menu, Nate was once again astounded at the tourist trap machine in full deployment. All of the menu items had spacey names – Saturn Rings for the onion rings, Rocket Dogs for the hotdogs. He shook his head as Alyssa placed his glass of Coke before him.

“I just want a burger,” he said, trying to decipher just which name a burger would have on a CrashDown menu.

“Want cheese on that?” she asked, scribbling on her pad.

Nate nodded. “Yeah.”

“Fries?”

“Okay.”

“My home number?”

Nate blinked, then furrowed his brow. Alyssa laughed and ripped the order from the pad, walked back to the kitchen window and clipped it to the carousel. As she walked away from the window, Nate didn’t miss the cook scowling at her.

“Ignore me,” Alyssa said as she came to lean on the counter before him. “I’m helpless. I see a cute guy and can’t stop myself.”

Nate laughed lightly, flushing again.

The cook hit the order bell. “Order up, Alyssa,” he said gruffly. “Table six.”

Alyssa, however, ignored him. “Have we met before?” she asked Nate. “Because you look familiar to me.”

Nate cocked his head – that was the oldest pickup line in the book. “No, I’ve never been here before.” In fact, this was the first time he’d been out of the Eastern Time Zone.

She waved a hand and Nate caught a glimpse of her purple nail polish. “I’m not flirting with you right now. I’m serious – you look familiar.”

He shrugged. “Sorry. I must just have one of those faces.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Alyssa Guerin!” the cook barked. “You have an order!”

Nate jumped but his waitress didn’t.

“That jackass is my boyfriend,” she whispered conspiratorially as she leaned across the counter toward Nate.

“Oh,” he replied, glancing at the boy, wondering if he was thinking about stomping the shit out of him.

Alyssa sighed. “I better take that before he has a cow.”

She left to get the tray and Nate met the cook’s eyes. Yep – there was no love lost there.

While Alyssa tended to her other customers, Nate’s mind drifted back to her comment that he looked familiar. Was it just a coincidence, or did his father or mother still live in this town and did he strongly resemble one of them? The possibility sent a little spark of excitement through him.

Eventually Alyssa returned with his lunch, which she sat before him. “Ketchup and mustard over there,” she said, laying down an extra napkin for him. “Need anything else?”

Nate shook his head, then called her back when she started to move away. “I’m going to be staying a few days. I need a place to stay.”

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “Wanna stay with me?”

He laughed and shook his head – he should have learned to check his words before he spoke to this one. She was too on-her-toes for him. “No, but thanks for the offer. I was hoping you could recommend a cheap motel. But clean.”

She shrugged. “The Tumbleweed will do. It’s on the west side of town. Take Main until it turns into a four lane. It’s about a mile down on the right.”

“Okay, thanks.” He gave her a grin and then dove into his burger.

*****

A motel room secured and his belly full, Nate had nothing left to do than to look up Philip Evans. In the motel, he pulled the battered phonebook from the nightstand and leafed through it until he found the lawyer section of the yellow pages. His finger stopped over the listing – the office was still there.

In the tiny, poorly-decorated bathroom, Nate combed his hair in the mirror, noted that he looked sickly. His stomach was starting to churn again and he second-guessed his decision to eat a full lunch.

“You’ve come this far,” he said to his reflection. “Don’t wimp out now.”

By the time Nate reached the law office, it was already four thirty in the afternoon. Would the office still be open? He looked up at the white stone structure – there was only one way to find out. Drawing in a breath, grabbed the brown envelope, climbed out of the truck and entered the building.

Behind the reception desk sat a perky young woman with dark hair. She greeted Nate with a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’d um…” Nate cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Evans, if he’s in.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The secretary’s eyes flitted over the appointment book.

Nate shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t. But I’ve come a very long way to see him and I won’t need but a few moments of his time.”

He thought he saw a hint of wariness in her eyes, but then the smile returned. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. - ?”

“Spencer. Nathan Spencer.”

“Mr. Spencer. I’ll see if he’s got a moment.”

Nate took a seat against the wall, his stomach continuing to twist uncomfortably. The receptionist went to a door behind her desk and cracked it open. He could only hear her side of the conversation, her voice optimistic and professional.

“Sir, there’s a Mr. Spencer here to see you…no, he doesn’t have an appointment…he didn’t say…okay.”

Hope deflated inside of him as the secretary turned around to face him. He was going to be rejected, he just knew it.

“Give him five minutes,” she said to his surprise. “He needs to finish up then he’ll be right with you.”

Nate nodded his thanks, then sat and waited patiently. But each passing minute only increased his anxiety. Maybe this had all been a mistake. Maybe he should have stayed in New York. Maybe he shouldn’t be digging into his past…

A buzzer sounded on the receptionist’s desk and she looked up at Nate and gave him a smile. “He’s ready for you.”

On shaking knees, Nate pushed himself to his feet and walked through the door belonging to the man who might have all of the answers he was looking for. The secretary closed the door behind him and Nate found himself face to face with a sixty-ish man with white hair and a care-lined face. The man held out his hand in greeting. Nate took it and hoped his palm wasn’t sweaty.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Spencer,” Philip Evans said, a business-like smile on his face.

“Sir,” Nate replied.

Philip gestured to a chair opposite his desk and Nate sat as he reclaimed his leather desk chair.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Spencer?”

“Please, call me Nate,” he said softly.

“Okay, Nate.”

Nate looked down at the envelope in his hands and decided his time here was probably limited – might as well cut to the chase. “Sir, I was adopted seventeen years ago.”

Philip didn’t look affected at all by that revelation. “Okay.”

Biting his lip, Nate reached into the envelope and pulled out the contract Philip had drawn up. “Your office handled my adoption.”

Philip’s eyes traveled to the document and Nate couldn’t be sure he saw any reaction there at all. But it appeared that some of the friendliness had evaporated from his demeanor.

“Do you remember this?” Nate asked, trying to breathe past the foot that was planted in the center of his chest. “Do you remember me?”

Philip rocked in his chair for a moment, then reached across the desk and took the contract from Nate. Sliding on his glasses, he breezed over it. “No,” he said, though his voice held no finality to it. “I don’t remember this in particular.” He looked over his glasses at Nate. “What is it you came to ask me?”

“Well, sir, there was a stipulation in the agreement that I couldn’t know I was adopted until I turned eighteen. I turned eighteen a while ago and my parents just told me about the adoption. As you can imagine, I’m anxious to know more about where I came from.”

“I see.” Philip studied him for a long moment.

He’s not going to help me, Nate sighed internally. All of this way and he’s going to turn me away.

But Philip abruptly sat forward in his chair, handing the contract back to Nate. “Tell you what – cases this old are stored in our archives,” he explained. “It’s late in the day and I’ll never be able to get the documentation before the warehouse closes. Where are you staying? I could give you a ring when I have it.”

Nate’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and disbelief. “Uh, the Tumbleweed. Room 12.”

Philip jotted the information down on a pad of paper, then stood, offering his hand to Nate. Nate rose and took it, still not believing how easily this was all falling into place.

“Nice to meet you, Nate,” Philip said as he firmly shook his hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

Nate grinned widely. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

As Nate left the office, practically walking on air, he didn’t notice Philip Evans watching him from his second-story window, a look of anything but delight on his face.

tbc

Part Eight

It was closer than ever now, that elusive memory that stayed in the shadows of Nate’s mind. If he closed his eyes, he’d catch a glimpse of something, and then it would be gone. It was maddening, to say the least.

“What’s it like there?” Annie’s voice on the other end of the phone line was slow and tired-sounding.

“Brown,” Nate replied, staring up at the ceiling of his motel room. Looking at the ceiling was more pleasant than looking at the walls, which had been wallpapered in a rather hideous cowboy print. “My room has horseshoes on the wall.”

Annie laughed. “What?”

Nate rolled his head to the side and studied the wallpaper boarder. “Yep. Horseshoes and stirrups and saddles.”

“Oh, God. Is the whole town like that?”

No, the whole town was much worse, but he didn’t want to tell her that. For some reason, Nate was feeling protective of his possible birth place and he knew if he explained to her the blatant tourist trap that was Roswell, she’d poke fun at it. “Not really,” he settled on. “But it is a desert town, so it’s hot and dusty…” And full of its share of UFO chasers.

Almost as though she’d read his thoughts, Annie teased, “Have you seen any aliens yet?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Any spaceships?”

“Not a one.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

Nate grinned. “I saw that lawyer today – Mr. Evans.”

“Yeah?” There was more interest in her voice than Nate had heard in days. “What happened?”

“Nothing yet. He said he had to get my file from his archives or something. He took my number and said he’d call me.” Nate rolled onto his side and looked out the window of the motel room. The sun had started to set and from what he could see, “brown” was the last color he’d use to describe the sky.

“Do you believe him?” Annie asked.

Nate shrugged. “I guess so. Why would he lie to me?”

On the other end of the line, Annie let out a long sigh and when she spoke, Nate felt like she’d just finished yawning. “Find out what you need and come home soon, okay? I’m already missing you.”

A small smile curved his lips. “I miss you too, Annie. You sound tired. You okay?”

“I’ve been studying all day and it’s a couple of hours later here than it is there. I’m alright – it’s just been a long day.”

“How about I let you go then?” he asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up.

“Okay. Take care, Nate. I love you.”

“I love you too, Annie bear.”

The cell went dead in Nate’s hand and he sat in silence for a few moments. Television at this cheap motel pretty much sucked – local stations only – so there was little to occupy his mind and time. He suddenly wished that he’d bought a paperback or something, but he hadn’t planned on needing things to do.

Standing, he stretched his lanky limbs and looked out of the large window of the motel room. The sun was setting the sky in vibrant hues of red and purple and pink. It was the most astonishing sunset Nate had ever seen. Drawn by it, he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside.

The Tumbleweed Inn was situated on the edge of town along a four-lane highway. Nate watched as a few cars and trucks whizzed by, but was taken at how light the traffic was this time of night. Because of the low volume, he decided to take a walk, to stretch his muscles after having been cooped up in his truck for three days. Originating from a crime-free, rural area, it never once crossed his mind that wandering the highways of New Mexico after dark might not be advisable.

So he continued on, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking at a relaxed pace. Alone again, his mind drifted to that memory, touched it, then stepped back again. Nate sighed. It could be that he’d never get a grasp on it, that he’d spend his whole life wondering what it all meant. He hoped not, because it pretty much sucked.

Not wanting to deal with the memory, he thought back on his meeting with Philip Evans. The man seemed nice enough, seemed like he wanted to help. But something didn’t sit well with Nate. He understood that eighteen years was a long time. He understood that a busy law office would see a lot of cases in that amount of time. What he didn’t understand was how Philip Evans could forget a case that involved participants who were fifteen hundred miles away. Surely the law offices of Philip Evans dealt pretty much regionally…or so Nate would have assumed.

So, was Annie right? Was there reason to doubt the lawyer? Nate’s brow furrowed. The thought that there was some conspiracy behind his adoption was unsettling.

He walked for an hour, until the sky was black and dotted with thousands of stars. Smiling, he looked to the sky – in New York, there were many trees and getting a panoramic view of the night sky was nearly impossible. But here in New Mexico, there were no trees to speak of and Nate felt like he was standing inside of a snow globe, that the millions of stars around him were pieces of falling confetti.

A piercing stab suddenly shot through Nate’s temples and he let out a cry of pain. He saw something streaking across the sky, in flames, until it disappeared on the other side of the mountains in the distance. Then he saw a ball of fire roll towards the night sky, illuminating the sand around him.

Grabbing his head to try to stop the pain, Nate then saw and heard helicopters overhead, searchlights panning back and forth, looking for something. Army trucks zoomed past him on the freeway, their heavy engines disturbing the night. And deep inside, Nate felt fear and panic, a primal instinct to survive and the dread of knowing it was impossible.

Blinded by the pain in his head, he fell to his knees in the sand, clutching the sides of his face…

“Hey, kid. You okay?”

Nate opened his eyes and found two worn, leather boots in his line of sight. Slowly, he pulled his hands away from his head and followed the boots to a pair of jeans, then upward into the face of a sheriff’s deputy. The officer was holding a flashlight before him, the beam just to the left of Nate’s face so as not to blind him. Ahead of them, Nate could see the cruiser pulled off the road, its lights flashing red and blue in the darkness.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. “I’m okay.”

“You been drinking?” Nate guessed the deputy to be in his thirties, a short but sturdy-looking man with close-cropped light brown hair. The name above his badge read ‘Valenti’.

“No,” Nate denied, brushing the sand from his pant legs.

“No,” Deputy Valenti repeated, cocking his head to the side, studying the young man. “Why are you sitting along side the road? It’s a good way to get killed, ya know.”

Nate offered him a sheepish look. “I went for a walk. Then, I…” How did he explain that one? Obviously there were no military trucks rumbling down the road or any helicopters in the sky. It had all been some kind of hallucination. “I didn’t feel well.”

“Are you sick?” the officer asked.

“I’m better now, I think.”

The deputy chewed his bottom lip, considering for a moment. “Why don’t you climb into the car?”

Shit. Nate tried to keep the startled look off his face. How was he going to explain this to Annie and his parents – “I freaked out and zoned out on a public freeway and now I’m in jail. Wish you were here!” He swallowed hard. “Am I under arrest for something?”

Deputy Valenti smirked. “Let’s just get in the car.”

Nate reluctantly followed him to the cruiser and slid into the back seat, somewhere he’d never planned on being. The officer got behind the wheel and picked up his radio, rattling off a bunch of codes and numbers that Nate couldn’t decipher. The thought occurred to him that perhaps this deputy was suffering from Short Man Syndrome – maybe he was just going to be a jerk to compensate for other things.

“Got any ID?” he asked without looking at Nate.

Nate fished in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He slid his driver’s license from its plastic sleeve and slipped it through the cage separating the front seat from the back. The officer took it and studied it in the dome light.

“New York?” he laughed. “Shit, kid – did you start walking in New York?”

Nate blinked, not sure how to take this man. “No, sir. I’m staying at the Tumbleweed.”

Deputy Valenti swiveled in his seat to give Nate his license. “I’m sorry about that. You know why they call it the Tumbleweed, right?”

Nate shook his head.

“Don’t look under the bed.” With that, the officer laughed and threw the car into gear, pulled quickly onto the road as he deadened the flashers.

Nate’s eyes were round. Was he going to jail for something? Had he done something wrong? And what was with this bizarre little police man?

Shortly, however, the cruiser pulled into the Tumbleweed and Deputy Valenti put it into park.

“I’ll save you the embarrassment and not turn on the flashers,” he grinned as he got out to open Nate’s door.

“Thanks,” Nate mumbled, stepping out of the cruiser.

“Be careful after dark,” the officer warned as Nate started for his room. “I don’t want to have to call your family back in New York and tell them you were eaten by dingoes.”

“Yes, sir.” He just wanted out of there. He wanted to go to his bedroom, forget that he’d seen comets and army trucks, tuck himself into bed and forget about this little brush with the law.

As his hand touched his doorknob, however, there was a quick flash of blue and red against the façade of the building. Nate’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he turned to find the officer leaning into his car, having quickly flicked the flashers on and off. Around the horseshoe-shaped motel, Nate could see blinds being separated and faces peeking through cracks of doors.

“I’m sorry,” Valenti laughed. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Nate frowned and let himself into his room. As he shut the door behind himself, he had to wonder if everyone in this little town was slightly off, right down to the law enforcement.

That thought was fleeting, however, because Nate’s stomach had started to churn again. He could claim that what he’d seen last week when he was with Annie had been the result of the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, but there was no reasonable explanation for what he’d just seen. These images had been much clearer and their duration lengthier. Nate wasn’t sure why that would be, either.

Unless there was something about being in Roswell that made the visions clearer.

tbc

Comments on comments later - I've been up since 4:00 and I'm exhausted


Part Nine

Nate wanted to go home.

So far, his trip to Roswell hadn’t produced much other than a creeping sense of paranoia. As he lay on his bed in the Tumbleweed Inn, despondent that it was already ten in the morning and Philip Evans hadn’t called yet, he realized the folly of his thinking –

It was Saturday. What law office was open on the weekend?

Maybe Annie was right – maybe the lawyer had just been playing him along to get rid of him.

For the first time in his life, Nate felt like crying out of frustration. All of those miles, leaving his loved ones behind, only to be duped. He was some kind of chump, that was for sure. Waiting in New York were two loving adoptive parents, who had let him go without a fight. In Pennsylvania, there was a cute little red head who had been more reluctant, but who still loved him anyway. Why had he ever left?

The worst part was that now he thought maybe he was sick. What had happened the night before with the vision of the army trucks and the streaking comet had not been normal for someone of sound mind and body. Couple that with the almost-memory that had been haunting him for years, and Nate was seriously beginning to doubt his sanity. He needed to go home if only to see a good doctor.

The minutes ticked by on the cheap alarm clock on the nightstand. Nate watched them without interest, until the hands both struck upright – noon. His stomach clenched a couple of times and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before. If he truly was working on an ulcer as his father had predicted, then going without eating was definitely a bad idea.

So he forced himself to shower, letting the hot spray pelt his face. The Tumbleweed might have been a cheap establishment, but at least they understood that road-weary travelers liked their water hot. As he lathered his body, he frowned as the soap left a trail over his thin chest, his lanky arms – he’d always wanted to be more muscular, but that just hadn’t happened for him, no matter what workout regime he’d adopted.

Back in the bedroom, he toweled off and slid into his last set of clean clothes. He doubted that the Inn had laundry facilities, so he knew that he would need to find the nearest laundromat some time that evening. Out of curiosity, he bent at the waist and pulled up the bed skirt. Wincing, he recoiled and quickly dropped the skirt; Deputy Valenti had been right – there was more than one dust bunny under the bed.

Outside, the day was blisteringly hot, with the sun high overhead. Nate squinted against it and quickly shoved on his sunglasses. As he was climbing into his truck, he noticed several blinds being pulled back, curious on-lookers from the previous night. Damn that police officer and his idea of a “joke”. Nate would be lucky if he didn’t get run out of town on a rail.

His truck was old and didn’t have air conditioning, so he sweated all of the way to the only restaurant he had tested and was relatively sure wouldn’t give him botulism – the CrashDown.

The restaurant was busy, a constant din of conversation and utensils filling the air. Nate glanced around at the patrons and then took up a spot at the counter again.

“Hey, there’s my favorite tourist!”

Nate looked up to find Alyssa before him again, cracking a wad of gum. He couldn’t help but grin at her – she was so full of life, so full of “who gives a shit”. Her full lips turned downward.

“You don’t look so hot today,” she observed, then backtracked. “Not that I don’t think you’re hot, because you are, I just meant that you look under the weather. You okay?”

Nate shrugged, one arm wrapping subconsciously around his midsection. “My stomach’s bothering me.”

Alyssa hooted a laugh. “Eating here ain’t gonna help that problem!”

He lifted one corner of his mouth, as much of a smile as he could muster.

Her smile faded away, too, seeing he really wasn’t feeling too well. “Tell you what? How about something non-greasy?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have that here?”

Her smile returned and he thought maybe she had thought he didn’t have a sense of humor. “We do, oddly enough. How about a nice, bland vanilla milkshake – we make the best in town – and a turkey sub? No grease, nothing heart-burn inducing.”

He gave a nod of his head and couldn’t help his smile. “Sounds good.”

“Okay then.” She continued to grin while she wrote his order on a green pad and then clipped the paper to the carousel for the cook.

Nate leaned out slightly and noticed that her obnoxious boyfriend wasn’t behind the grill this afternoon, and for that he was happy. He hadn’t liked the look of that kid.

While Alyssa attended her other customers, Nate glanced around the café, taking in the variety of ages and faces. His gaze landed at the end of the bar where he found an all-too-familiar face – that of Deputy Valenti. As Nate’s ears started to burn in embarrassment, the officer grinned and raised his coffee cup in greeting. Nate tried to return the smile and quickly resumed surveying the other patrons. There wasn’t one familiar face in the joint…

Until the ringing of the bell over the door drew his attention. In walked a leggy, attractive blond woman and Nate immediately knew he recognized her from somewhere. She walked with an air of confidence, a take-no-shit attitude, the kind of composure that came from being successful and knowing her place in the world. Her clothes were fine, not the kind of thing that would be bought at Kohl’s or Target. Nate’s mouth dropped open as he tried to put a name to her face.

To his surprise, she walked straight over to where Alyssa was waiting on a booth near the back of the restaurant. The girl looked irritated to see the woman and Nate watched in fascination. A short conversation ensued, following which the woman kissed the girl on the cheek and then left the restaurant.

Nate watched her go, dumbfounded, then jerked slightly when Alyssa appeared before him with his food.

“Was that –?” he began.

Alyssa frowned. “Yes,” she answered in a clipped tone.

“How do you know her?” Nate’s ears reddened. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Her bottom lip pushed out into a pout. “She’s my mother.”

“Your mother is Maria Deluca?!” Nate spouted, astounded that the world could be so small. Annie had loved Maria when her one and only album had been released when they were in junior high school – she would absolutely piss herself if she knew that Nate had just had a close encounter with her.

Several people turned to look at Nate and Alyssa cringed.

“Sh,” she whispered. “Not everyone knows that.”

Nate wilted, his expression sheepish. “Sorry. It’s just – wow! You’re Maria Deluca’s daughter!”

She rolled her eyes as she picked up a glass and started to dry it. “No, I’m Maria Guerin’s daughter. They’re not the same person.”

Remembering his manners, Nate suddenly felt guilty for prying. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t expect to see someone famous here.”

Some of her discomfort falling away, Alyssa set down the glass and leaned forward on the counter. “You’re right – most people or things around here are infamous rather than famous.” Her grin returned, that coy gleam back in her eyes. “For instance, Mom’s famous for her CD, but Dad’s infamous for beating up paparazzi.”

Nate chuckled. It was obvious that Alyssa Guerin had not had a “normal” upbringing.

“Finish up your lunch, traveler. You don’t want to make that stomach ache worse.”

He lifted one corner of his mouth into a smirk. “You don’t remember my name, do you?” he challenged.

Alyssa straightened abruptly. “Of course I do. How could I forget you, Nate from New York?” With that, she tossed him a wink and sauntered through the kitchen doors.

Nate watched her go…and immediately chastised himself for the thought that ran through his head.

Naughty thoughts of Alyssa were only a temporary reprieve. Once his bill had been paid and Nate returned to the motel, all of the worries that had been with him that morning resurfaced. He stopped in the manager’s office to see if he had any messages and found that he did not. To top it off, the manager looked at him like he was an escapee from a nearby New Mexico correctional facility. Nate cursed the deputy once again and retreated to his room where he could mope in silence.

Surprisingly, sleep came quickly even though it was only late afternoon. Perhaps it was the full stomach, perhaps it was just exhaustion, but Nate found himself drifting into a dead, dreamless sleep…

Out of the darkness, a blond woman appeared to him. He smiled because she was so pretty, like an angel, and her soul seemed welcoming to his weary heart.

“Who are you?” he asked drunkenly, his words coming out slow and sounding hollow.

“No one important,” she said, her smile genuine.

“Why are you here?”

“To tell you not to worry. All will be fine, Nate. Put your mind and heart at ease.”

Though it wasn’t logical that this person could know his world had turned upside down, Nate couldn’t reason that within the dream. Because of that, he laughed.

“How do you know I’m not at ease?” he giggled.

She approached him on bare feet, her steps soundless. Silent, she laid her hand against his chest and he was surprised at her height – she seemed taller than the average woman.

“Because I can see into your soul,” she said, her eyes fixed on his. “You’re a good man, Nate. Don’t forget who you are.”

His brow furrowed. “But I don’t know who I am.”

“You will.” Her image started to fade before him. “You will…”

“Wait!” he called, reaching for her as she faded into mist. “I don’t know who I am! Come back!”

Nate was awake abruptly, his heart thudding against his ribs. His eyes darted, unseeing, from one corner of his room to the next; he could see nothing as the room was already cast into evening shadows. Once he’d regained coherence, he laid back on the bed, disgusted that apparently his mind had played tricks on him once again.

But that’s not what had awakened him. A harsh rapping sounded against his flimsy motel door and Nate sat up quickly, startled. Without thinking or heeding Deputy Valenti’s warnings of dingoes, he jumped from the bed and pulled the door open.

On the other side stood Philip Evans, his face holding more emotion than Nate had seen in their brief encounter the previous day. Immediately, Nate straightened, trying to make his bed head lie down.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Philip said.

“No, it’s okay,” Nate answered, his voice coming out in a sleepy croak. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I took a nap…” Anxiety had his heart thumping harder and faster than the dream had. Why was this man on his doorstep on a Saturday night? What news was he about to deliver?

“Are you better now?” Philip asked and Nate could have sworn his concern was genuine.

Nate nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m okay.”

“Good, good.” Philip paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “I brought someone with me,” he announced.

Nate’s blue eyes grew round. “You did?”

Philip nodded, then stepped into the room, making room for his guest. “This is my son, Max.”

Nate’s eyes shifted from the older man to the man’s son and he felt his knees weaken.

Max was a tad shorter than Nate, his dark hair reaching his shoulders. His build was muscular, his frame solid. A light coat of stubble darkened his face.

But Nate noticed none of that. Nate noticed Max’s eyes, an unordinary shade of brown, soulful, full of regret and hope all at the same time. As their eyes met, the memory that had eluded Nate for all of his life came hurling toward him –

And crashed into his conscious.

So strong was the sensation that Nate gasped. In his mind, he saw this man, only much younger, holding a baby, his eyes full of heartbreak as he said goodbye. In that instant, Nate knew that he was the baby.

And that Max was his father.

tbc

Okay, I lied - here's another part

Yes, RIP poor Speedle

If in this next part it seems like things went too smoothly, they did. Rest assured - I haven't fallen off my rocker yet, and I do have an agenda


Part Ten

Beneath his weight, Nate’s knees buckled and he swayed on his feet. Quickly, Max reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey,” he said softly, guiding Nate to the rickety chair that was sitting by the window. “You okay? Here, sit down.”

Nate did as he was told, leaning forward and putting his head between his knees. This was all too surreal, to think he was in the same room with the person who had helped to create him, a person who looked to be too young to have a child of Nate’s age. Was Max twelve years old when Nate was conceived? On top of it, this must also mean that Philip was Nate’s grandfather – he’d found two generations within two days.

But the thing that alarmed Nate was that he could now see the memory as plain as day, as if it had just happened moments ago. How could that be? His father had told him that he was adopted at the age of eight months – no baby could recall things before then. I didn’t make sense and only added credence to the belief that Nate was somehow delusional.

“You okay?” Max repeated. “Do you need some water?”

Nate lifted his head and found Max squatting before him. “No,” he croaked. “I’m just…I haven’t been feeling well.” Max’s eyes were full of concern for this boy he’d just met. “You’re my father,” Nate added as a statement rather than a question.

Max gave a barely-perceptible smile and nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Millions of questions swirled through Nate’s head. On the drive to New Mexico, he’d made a mental list of things to ask if he should happen to meet his biological father. But now, faced with this ruggedly handsome man, Nate couldn’t put any of his thoughts into words.

“I don’t know what to say,” he confessed dismally.

“Maybe we came at a bad time,” Philip suggested, stepping forward to put a hand on Max’s shoulder. Nate followed their movements, father and son. “I should have phoned first. Max, maybe we should go…”

“No,” Nate protested quickly. “I apologize. It’s just…”

“You aren’t feeling well,” Max concluded, his smile a little more obvious this time.

Nate nodded, his cheeks flushing a light pink.

“I know this is weird for you,” he continued. “I know you probably have a ton of questions, probably more than I can answer in one night. So, please – just take a couple of deep breaths and relax, okay?”

Nate nodded and inhaled slowly a couple of times and found that he did indeed feel a little better.

Max smiled at him. “Good. Let’s start over.” He held his hand out in greeting. “Hi, I’m Max Evans.”

Nate snorted a little laugh and took Max’s hand. “Nate Spencer.”

“Nice to meet you, Nate.”

They shared an awkward smile, neither of them really knowing what to say to the other.

“Max is right,” Philip began. “There is a lot of ground to cover. Instead of hashing through it all at once, why don’t we start slow, take it once piece at a time? Get to know each other a little first?”

In truth, Nate wanted all of the answers now, but he knew that probably wasn’t the best approach, so he nodded his head silently.

Philip offered him a kind smile. “Why don’t you come home with us? My wife’s making dinner and I know she’d love to meet you.”

Nate turned wary eyes to Max, who gave a short nod of his head.

“Okay,” Nate answered. “But can I get cleaned up a bit first?”

“Of course,” Max said, standing. “We’ll wait outside.”

After the men left, Nate felt the overwhelming urge to try to do ten things at once and found it ironically paralyzing. Instead of scurrying about, he stood in the center of his room and did nothing. He needed to brush his teeth and comb his hair. He wanted to call Annie and tell her the news – his parents would like to know also. He should count his money and see how long he could stay in Roswell. So many things to do, so little time.

Eventually, he forced himself to wash his face, comb his hair and brush his teeth. His clothes were a bit wrinkled, but they would just have to do since he was wearing the last clean ones he owned. Then he grabbed his jacket and exited the motel room.

As it had happened earlier in the day, a few of the blinds parted and a few faces peeked through doors. Nate rolled his eyes and met Philip and Max by a new SUV. The men had been chatting in hushed tones, but had stopped as soon as they saw Nate approaching.

“I’ll take the back seat,” Max offered, already moving for the door.

“It’s okay,” Nate replied quickly. “I’ll sit back there.” He wanted to sit by himself, but he also wanted to sit where he could see what was going on. Call it paranoid, but he was about to get into a car with two perfect strangers in a town where no one would miss him if he disappeared.

Max shrugged, the leather of his jacket squeaking in return. “Okay, then.”

The men piled into the SUV, with Philip driving, Max riding shotgun and Nate in the back. After he buckled his seat belt, his gaze landed on a bag on the floor behind the driver’s seat – it looked like a carry-on bag. Brow furrowed slightly, he immediately looked in Max’s direction. Had he flown in from somewhere?

The drive over to the Evans house was strange, to say the least. Nate couldn’t think of what to say and Philip and Max seemed to be struggling to include him in their conversations. Nate was beginning to regret agreeing to coming along.

But then they arrived at Philip’s house, a well-maintained home in an affluent area. Nate’s eyes were round – the house was easily twice the size of the Spencers’ bungalow. Then again, Philip Evans was an attorney and Jonathan Spencer was not.

As he unbuckled his seat belt, Max leaned between the seats. “Just a word of warning – my mom wears her emotions on her sleeve.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, but before he could even think of asking for clarification, a woman he assumed to be Mrs. Evans came rushing out of the front door. She was a pretty woman, possibly slightly younger than Philip, her hair colored a pale blond.

Throwing her arms wide, she demanded of Max, “Where is he?”

Max chuckled as he climbed out of the SUV. “In the back seat, Mom.”

Before Nate could open his door, the woman had pulled it open herself and was dragging him out by his arm.

“Oh, look at you! All grown up!” she spouted as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly.

Nate grimaced, unable to breathe and met Max’s eyes over her shoulder. Max tipped his head and mouthed the words ‘I told you so.’

“Good heavens, Diane,” Philip sighed as he pulled the carry-on bag from the back seat. “Let the boy breathe.”

Stepping back, she wiped tears from her eyes and cupped Nate’s cheek, which immediately turned bright red. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I just can’t believe you’re here with us.”

“Um, thank you, ma’am,” he stammered, not sure what to say. He found it odd that everyone was so welcoming – it was almost as though they hadn’t wanted to give him up all of those years ago. Maybe he’d been kidnapped…

“What’s for dinner?” Max asked, putting his arm around his mother and pulling her away from his son.

“And you!” she shrieked, her face lighting up. “Look how tan you are!” Then her arms were around him and she was squeezing the life out of him as well.

Nate watched with mild amusement. This was definitely a homecoming for Max, and Nate got the impression he’d come straight from the airport to the Tumbleweed. Diane wrapped her arm around Max’s waist and he put his around her shoulders. As they entered the house, Max looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Nate as Diane talked quickly and incessantly. Nate offered him a small grin in response, everything still seeming very unreal.

Inside the house, Philip accompanied Diane into the kitchen to keep her occupied with dinner if for no other reason than to give Nate a moment’s peace. Max showed Nate into the living room where he stood uncomfortably rather than taking a seat, then retrieved some drinks from the refrigerator and handed one to Nate. He looked down at it – 7Up.

“It will help with your stomach ache,” Max said, flopping into the easy chair.

Nate looked at the drink again. How did Max know his stomach hurt? He didn’t remember saying so in the motel – all he’d said was that he wasn’t feeling well. “Thanks,” he said, suddenly bashful.

“Not a problem. Anything you need, just ask.” Max popped open his Pepsi and took a sip.

Nate’s eyes drifted over to the mantel, where he saw some photographs lined up in pretty silver frames. He walked over to the fireplace and looked at the first photo, which was of Max and a pretty, dark-haired girl. They were both laughing, a beautiful couple.

“That’s my wife, Liz,” Max explained.

Nate glanced over his shoulder. “Will I be able to meet her, too?”

“No. She’s back in Boston.”

Nate turned around to face Max. Boston? “Do you live there?”

Max nodded. “My wife is a professor at Harvard.”

Internally, Nate snorted – he’d traveled several thousand miles out of his way in the wrong direction to meet this man. “Did you just fly in?”

Max nodded again.

Nate returned to the pictures. The next was of a blond woman who looked oddly familiar, a Latino man and three children. He studied the woman, knowing he’d seen her somewhere before, but couldn’t place her.

“That’s my sister Isabel,” Max said. “Her husband Jesse and her three kids. They also live in Boston.”

Nate stuffed his hands in his pockets, a dead give-away that he was starting to feel a little anxious, that he wanted answers. He skimmed over the rest of the pictures quickly, then sat down on the couch, perching on the very edge instead of relaxing.

“Is Liz my mother?” he asked softly.

For one brief moment, Nate thought he saw a flash of something – regret? – in Max’s eyes, but it was gone quickly.

“No,” he answered. “Not Liz.”

Nate swallowed. “Who…um, then who is my mother?”

Max looked away for a moment, as though he was mustering his courage. “Her name was Tess Harding.”

Nate raised his eyebrows, happy that he had another piece of information. “Can I meet her?”

Max shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Nate. She passed away not long after you were born.”

Nate felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and some of his hope deflated. He was never going to meet his real mother, and there was something devastating in that knowledge.

“I know what it’s like,” Max said softly.

Nate raised his head, curious.

Max motioned to the Evanses, who were joking with one another as they set the table. “I was adopted, too.”

“You were?” That was surprising, though Nate wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was ironic that someone who had been parentless would choose to make their own flesh and blood parentless.

Max slowly nodded his head. “Only, I never found out who my parents were.”

Nate frowned. That had to suck.

Max drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I know you’re wondering why I put you up for adoption.”

Nate met his eyes, gave a little nod.

“I was young, Nate, too young to properly care for an infant. I was alone, your mother had passed away. I thought that I could find a better life for you somewhere else.”

“I understand that,” Nate said quietly. “I’m not angry or hurt, Max. I have a good family. I was just…curious.”

Max grinned. “And I understand that.”

Nate returned his smile, realizing that maybe he and Max Evans were on the same page, maybe they’d been cut from the same cloth after all.

“How long will you be in town?” Max asked.

Nate threw out a number without really knowing if he could afford it. “A couple more days.”

“Good,” Max replied. “I’m going to be here that long, too.”

Nate beamed. They were going to spend time together, get to know one another. For the first time in a long time, the uneasiness in his stomach abated.

For the life of him, he couldn’t recall why he’d been anxious about coming here.

tbc