“That’s a sophisticated-looking device,” he said when he reached her.
She turned toward him and he saw that she didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t surprise him. The civilian clothes were part of the ruse, after all, a necessary element of the story he’d concocted as he’d made the long drive to this absurd gathering of kooks.
He gave her his winning smile. “How does it work?”
“I built it from a plan in Fate magazine,” Sally answered. “The antennae are supposed to broadcast my brain waves out into space.”
“How do they do that?”
“You had a choice. You could either buy this thing that looked like a salad bowl or you could use a metal bucket.” She smiled, then noted the man’s serious expression. “I’m kidding.” She nodded toward the contactor. “There’s a radio transmitter built into the machine, and a microphone.” She shrugged. “I just talk and hope for the best.”
Owen’s smile remained in place, as if pasted to his lips.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Sally shook her head.
Owen let the smile dim. “Your machine, it’s to send a message to that… friend you found in your shed.”
Sally’s eyes sparked suddenly. “You were…”
“With the Army,” Owen said. “I came to see you once. I lost my job because of your friend. I filed a report that said he was a ‘visitor’ who’d returned to his planet. I was only telling the truth, but it cost me my job… and my marriage.” The smile returned, softer now, beguiling. “I was never a believer. Until I saw the lights.” His eyes caught on the lone star earring that hung from Sally’s neck. “I like your pendant.”
Sally’s hand reached up to the pendant. She touched it softly. “It’s an earring actually. My grandmother’s.”
Owen continued to peer at the earring. “Where’s the other one?” he asked.
“I gave it away,” Sally answered.
Owen’s eyes lifted toward her tenderly. “So now it really is a lone star,” he said. He glanced around the area, watching the contactors as they struggled with their machines. “If your machine worked, what would you say to him?”
For a moment she hesitated, but he saw that she was the type of woman who told the truth, no matter what the cost.
“That I miss him,” Sally said. “And that there’s something he should know about.” She reached into her wallet and pulled out three photographs. “This is Tom and this is Becky. They’re mine by my late and not at all lamented husband.” She turned to the next photograph. “And this is Jacob.”
Owen looked at her pointedly, making certain that she could see that he knew who Jacob’s father was. “I’d like to meet Jacob.” He offered his hand and noticed that she took it very gently. “By the way,” he added, “my name is Owen.”
They talked on for a few minutes, and with each passing second Owen felt the hook sink deeper into Sally. She was a lonely woman who’d lived a lonely life, a woman who’d fallen in love with an alien, borne his child, and now sought this vanished father in the sky.
An hour later, he stood at the door of her motel room. Her gaze had changed by then, and he knew that there was an element of desire in it, and a need for love, to be touched in a way she had not been touched in years.
“It was nice running into you again after all these years,” Owen told her.
“Maybe we’ll… see each other again at one of these get-togethers.”
“I hope so.”
Sally laughed lightly. “Although to tell you the truth, I’m getting a little tired of the great Dr. Quarrington and his many trips to Venus.”
“With Renuthia?” Owen added with a smile.
They both laughed softly, then Owen said, “You heading home in the morning?”
Sally nodded.
“I hope we do,” Owen said, his eyes upon her softly.
“Do what?”
“See each other again.”
“I’d like that,” Sally said, then reached for her key.
Owen turned away, but her voice drew him back.
“Owen?”
He faced her again.
“You said that filing that report cost you your marriage,” Sally said. “I think your wife must have been a very foolish woman to let you go.”
Owen smiled as she closed the door gently behind her, then walked to Sally’s truck and removed the distributor cap. He knew that in the morning, she’d be unable to start the truck, and would come to him for help. Then he would generously suggest that he drive her back to Lubbock.
The plan worked as Owen knew it would, and they arrived in Lubbock the next day. As they pulled into the yard, Owen saw a woman hanging sheets on a clothesline while a man tossed a football to a boy who looked over at him suddenly, his eyes wary and curiously afraid.
The dread was still in Jacob’s eyes a few hours later when they gathered around the dinner table. Sally talked about her work, how someone named Tyler was thinking of selling the diner where she worked. Tom and Becky asked a few questions, but none Owen couldn’t easily answer. But Jacob said nothing, and noting his silence, Owen knew absolutely that this boy knew why he’d come and what he intended to do.
Still it was important to keep to the plan, and so, after the others had gone to bed, he lingered with Sally until the hour grew late and he finally rose to leave.
“I’d better get into town,” he said. “I need to find a motel room.”
He stopped, as if a thought had just occurred to him, then said, “This Mr. Tyler. Think he’d sell his restaurant to me? I’m looking for an… opportunity.”
Sally laughed. “Well, if he does sell it to you, change the chicken recipe. Tyler makes the worst fried chicken in west Texas.” The laughter trailed off and Owen saw the long years of her loneliness reflected in her eyes. “You don’t need to go into town,” she told him.
Owen moved toward her, but she gently pushed him away. “I’ll change the bedding in the spare room,” she said, then disappeared up the stairs.
He could hear her above him, leaned back and drew in a long breath, proud of what he’d accomplished. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to find Jacob standing a few feet away.
“I’m never gonna fly your saucer,” Jacob said.
Owen gave no indication that he had the slightest idea what Jacob was talking about. Instead he only smiled quietly. Oh yes you are, he thought.
Anne sat stiffly in the living room while Sam and Eric frolicked around her, punching at each other and tumbling to the floor. She didn’t bother to stop them. Her mind was on something much larger than her children’s play. Owen was gone. He had been gone for days. This had happened before, but this time the absence had gone without a call either from Owen himself or Marty or Howard or anyone who might know where her husband was or what he was doing.
She reached for the phone, then drew back. You’re an Army wife, she told herself, and an Army brat, and you should hold firm and keep silent, and never, never, ask questions.
Sam and Eric scurried into the room, then back out of it, but Anne paid no attention. There were questions she had to ask now, she realized, things she had to know.
She picked up the phone and made the call.
“Marty, Anne Crawford,” she said. “There’s been a terrible accident. Sam fell off the roof. He broke his neck… I have to get in touch with Owen. I know he’s not in Washington. Where is he, Marty?”
She could sense Marty’s hesitation. It lasted three seconds, then he spoke.
“ Lubbock,” he said. “ Lubbock, Texas.”
They came over a rise, and it lay before them, a bare patch of earth, almost perfectly round, with nothing touched at the rim of the circle, not so much as a singed blade of grass.