Pushing open the kitchen door, she took a moment to savor the blend of delicious aromas that emanated from the vicinity of the stove. Her long black hair caught up in an elastic, looking like an orchestra conductor, Martha stood in the middle of all this wizardry, serenely stirring the contents of all the bubbling pots with a big, wooden spoon. Even amid all the culinary mess and clutter, Martha had an air of contented grace about her that Sam immediately yearned for.
This soft sentiment, however, was quickly dispelled when, without even bothering to turn around, her friend spoke, "You’re late, you jerk."
"Sorry", replied Sam, without sounding it. "I’ve been swamping out the house."
"So, how do you like domestic life so far?" asked Martha, tossing a grin over her shoulder in Sam’s general direction.
"Well ......... I can honestly say it sucks. My back is killing me." commented Sam, chewing on a raw carrot and perching herself on a stool. "But the house is starting to feel like home again. It needs paint, though. You know, Martha, I rally did the right thing. Coming home, I mean. It feels good to be here."
Turning with a air of concern, Martha answered, "Of course, I’m thrilled to have you back here again. But Sammy, you will let me know when you’re ready to talk, won’t you?"
"You know I will ....." Sam started to reply, but was interrupted by a deafening clatter on the back steps. The door banging wide open, three kids exploded through it into the kitchen. "Whoa! Where’s Kevin Jr.?" shouted Martha above the din.
"He’ll be here in a minute, Mom. He’s closing up the barn." explained the youngest, trying unsuccessfully to swipe his blond hair out of his eyes with a thoroughly grimy hand. Looking at Sam without any hint of shyness, he stuck out that same hand and proclaimed, "I’m Michael and my Mom’s told me everything about when you two were growing up together in the old days."
Without hesitation, Sam took his hand. "I sincerely hope not quite everything!" she laughed.
"What do you mean "old days" buster?!" Martha whacked him neatly on his butt with the dish towel in her hand. "You monsters go get washed up for dinner."
"My God, Martha," exclaimed Sam, momentarily stupefied by all the clamor, "Four boys!"
"Yep, couldn’t throw a girl for the life of me." stated Martha flatly as she ladled the thick stew into a deep tureen. "Here, Sam," she said, handing over a stack of silverware, "go put your brand new domestic talents to good use."
Chapter 4
Later that night, after the boys had been corralled and tucked into their individual beds, Martha, Kevin and Sam sat amicably in front of a roaring fire finishing off a bottle or two of Kevin’s home brew.
Sam found herself feeling more relaxed than she had in months. The combined warmth from the fire and old friends felt wonderful. Martha had just finished explaining how her grandmother had decided to instill a sense of their Penobscot heritage into her great - grandsons. From there the talk went to another of the Island’s oldest inhabitants.
"I can’t wait to see Happy again." Sam commented. "How is he doing?"
"He’s as crusty as ever, the old fart." Said Kevin. "Still lives out on the Head with all those broken down cars and that old hound of his."
Eventually, the conversation came around to Sam’s work in the SETI based tracking progrm over the last few years.
"Kev doesn’t believe in little green men from outer space ..... or UFOs." Martha reached across her husband on the couch for a handful of pretzels in a bowl on the coffee table. "Say’s it’s all Hollywood bullshit." She ended with her mouth full.
"Course it is!" Chimed in Kevin, "Only a fool would believe all that hype.
Roswell my ass."
"So, what do you say to that, Sammy?" Martha sat back against the cushions grinning. She was starting to have fun. This was an ongoing difference of opinion that her husband and friend had been having for years now. She knew it wouldn’t take much to get them both going. When they were kids, their arguments would get quite loud.
"God, Kevin. How can you be such a close minded idiot?" Sam snapped in disgust, fully taking the bait. "Little green men ....... Jesus."
"You tell him, girl." Martha knew that Sam was just getting warmed up.
"In our galaxy alone, Kev, there are approximately three to four hundred million stars. That’s so many that I can’t even begin to comprehend it! But think about this, Kevin. Each and everyone of those stars could be possible homes for other beings. Don’t you know that Earth is a relative late - comer to the cosmic scene?"
"Well then," Kevin, unimpressed by her figures, munched loudly on a pretzel, "why don’t we just take a little trip to a couple of those stars and check them out?"
Sam laughed, "Kevin, we couldn’t afford the gas to get to the star next door let alone the other three hundred and ninety nine million of them. That’s why the tracking programs, like the one I work with, are so vital. The interstellar distances are so vast that it’s just simply more cost effective to listen. Not to mention the time it would take in terms of years of travel to those distances.
Radio broadcasting is the only way to go."
The three sat quietly for a few moments thinking about what Sam had just said.
Suddenly, Sam started to laugh. "Really, Kev. Little green men? Aren’t you going to feel like an ass when your nearest galactic neighbor turns out to be so much smarter than you?"
"Probably better looking, too." Roared Martha, shoving her elbow deep into her husband’s ribs.
Sam shook her head as she rose from her chair. She knew when to fold with these two.
"Laugh all you want, guys, but I’m convinced that somewhere out there - lost among all those stars - is a civilization that is much older and therefore that much more elaborate than ours. Our culture has only had technology for a bit over a hundred years now. What if we are able to discover one that has used technology for one hundred thousand years? Think what we could learn from them!"
She started to pull on her jacket for the short walk home.
"Yeah," said Kevin, as he helped with the coat, "or maybe we should think about how they could blast the bejesus out of us!"
"Do you really believe that, Kev?" asked Sam incredulously, spinning around to face him.
"Don’t really know what I believe, kid. All I’m saying is this - maybe, just maybe, when all is said and done after using all your fancy science, silicone chips and amazing computer that can make a trillion fucking calculations in a heartbeat - maybe if we ever do find someone else out there - well, we may find that we would have been better off just to have kept our mouths shut."
Sam reached up to give Kevin a hug goodnight. "That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Kev. You’re so damn positive in your outlook."
Chapter 5
Sam heard him approaching long before she actually saw him. The unmistakable chug of a vintage VW bus as it climbed the small hill at the foot of her driveway. When she heard the engine being roughly shifted downward to make the turn, she knew she was going to have a visitor.
Scrambling to her feet, she quickly gathered her scattered papers up from the porch floor and made an exit for the front door ...... and security. Safely inside the house, Sam watched tensely from a shaded parlor window as the dusty, blue bus emerged from behind the thick cedar hedge. It pulled up and parked in front of the porch that she had only seconds ago vacated.
He was exceptionally tall and walked in long, easy strides. Sam’s first impression of him was that he looked ready for anything. Loping effortlessly up the steps, he crossed the porch and was at the door quickly. Ignoring the ornate brass knocker, he rapped loudly on the wood with his knuckles.
Sam turned to her desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. She withdrew a .38, checked it’s chamber and slid it into her deep sweater pocket. Feeling slightly reassured by it’s weighty feel, she went into the foyer and opened the front door just an inch and asked firmly, "Who is it?" while keeping her hand lightly on the gun.