The Family Man

"Yes," I answered concisely, not wanting to repeat my conversation with Quentin again.

"I'm not as convinced," Eric said.

"You both know how insane all this sounds." We nodded softly in unison. Robertson grunted, stood, then paced between two of the crates while ringing his hands. "I hate when evidence points where I don't want to look."

"I wish there was an easier way to prove it," Eric said.

"I could just shoot you," Robertson said. "At least then I'd be certain."

"Please don't," Eric said. "It hurts like hell."

"Serve you right if you're lying," Robertson said. "Then again, if you are lying, I'd be the murder."

"I think we could have come up with a better lie," I interjected, not wanting to see Eric die again.

"Well, I'll play it like this," Robertson said, "I'll look for this Quentin. I'll also have that brooch independently verified. If I find you've sent me on a wild goose chase, I might just come back and shoot you."

"I don't think you'll find Quentin," Eric said. "He has a few centuries practice on you."

"We'll see. I don't like unsolved murder cases," the detective continued. "If he is as ruthless as you say and comes back, I'll be happy to test that immortality."

"I don't think he's coming back," I said. At least, I intended to live my life as if it were true. Quentin's mouth may tell lies, but I saw the truth in his eyes.

Chapter 26

Quentin, the fifth son of Aramide, hid behind his mother. His father had left with his sword and had not returned. The sounds of battle were nearing, and he was struggling to hold back the flood in his eyes. His brothers, his uncles, and his father had always laughed at his fear. Now it crawled across his skin like a frozen flame, cutting deep into his gut and rendering his circulating thoughts useless.

"Stand, my son," Quentin's mother instructed, pointing next to her. She had a blade in her hand, shorter than his father's, but sharp nonetheless. She was not shaking. Quentin rose slowly, wishing he could remain hidden under the furs that warmed their nights. He clenched his teeth and moved to her side.

"The end nears," Quentin's mother told him. "When they come, you will be brave." He nodded, though it was a lie. He wrapped his arm around her leg. "There will be a moment, a brief one. You will run when I tell you." Quentin nodded again, struggling to remain standing under the din of the death wails outside. "You will run to our Great Mother. You will not stop till you get there. Do you understand." He nodded again and gripped her leg tighter. He could hear them approaching. He felt her soft hand on the back of his neck, and looked up at the only person he fully trusted.

"You will not forget me?" Quentin's mother asked. Fear was replaced by shame. How could she not know his mind? She's the only one who he thought understood.

"Never, mamma," Quentin said. "You will run with me."

"No, my son. I cannot." Quentin's mother smiled down at her son. "You are my light so you must shine. Always remember my love." She peeled his hands away from her leg. Quentin sensed the world was about to change.

Two men burst through the door wearing shirts built from sheets a metal and holding swords twice the length of his mother's blade. She pushed him away and pointed her blade at the intruders. They were large men, shaven of face, and wore their confidence well. Quentin reach for his mother, but she was sidestepping away. The men followed the blade, crouching as they walked.

"Be ready, my love," Quentin's mother called. She thrust the blade forward in warning. The men inched carefully toward her. He was frozen, fear sapping every muscle. "Be brave," his mother yelled. She stopped and turned her blade around.

The soldiers slowed in confusion. Quentin's mother smiled at her boy, her eyes screaming her pride. Quentin reached out again, his fingers flared as if the distance between them was non-existent. She plunged the blade into her belly.

"Run," Quentin's mother screamed. The soldiers stood agape as the woman before them disemboweled herself. Quentin's mind shattered, the world he had known tumbled into the unknown. His connection to it was falling to her knees. "Run," she groaned again. He ran blindly, never knowing of the smile that crossed her lips when she saw him pass the stunned soldiers.

***

"Sir!" the voice said. A gentle hand on Quentin's shoulder woke him from his deep sleep. The first he had in centuries. He opened his eyes to a flight attendant wearing a functional smile. "We're on final approach. I need you to bring your seat to the upright position."

"Yes, of course," Quentin replied as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It took only a moment to adjust the seat. The attendant nodded and continued down the aisle checking the other passengers. Quentin smiled to himself when he realized he couldn't remember his dream. Nothing of the nightmares he was used to.

"Heading home?" the man sitting near the window asked.

"Pardon," Quentin replied, his mind shifting to the environment.

"It's your accent. I assumed you were heading home," the man said. He was a casually dressed American, most likely vacationing.

"Yes." Quentin smiled. He was heading home. Memories of his youth, before the Romans, filled his mind. He could almost see his mother, his staunchest champion through the trials of a difficult time. "I am going home."

"Been away for awhile?"

"For too long," Quentin replied. "I fear I'll barely remember the place."

"Home is always home," the man said. Quentin liked his demeanor. It was open ended as if the problems of the world were only trivial thoughts one could shove aside. The man knew nothing of never-ending vengeance.

"I was thinking of my mother," Quentin said, wondering why he trusted the man with his personal thoughts. He smiled so the man would know it was a good memory.

"Been awhile since you've seen her?"

"A very long time. She passed on many years ago," Quentin said. Strangely, it wasn't an awful thought anymore. He could still feel her love and chose to remember it, ignoring the less tasteful memories.

"I guess, Mother's Day is a good time to remember," the man said solemnly.

"What?"

"Today's Mother's Day," the man continued, "Or it was before we crossed the dateline. Is it celebrated in Germany?"

"Yes," Quentin answered. His smile grew larger. A really good day to remember her. "I met a woman in your country who reminded me of her. It made me rethink things. I decided to come home and start fresh."

"Never too late for that," the man said, inheriting Quentin's smile. "My mother can be a bit trying at times, but I gotta love her faith in me. So, you changing jobs and everything?"

"Changing everything," Quentin said, nodding his head emphatically, "I don't want to hate anything anymore. It's too tiring."

"I envy you," the man said. "I have to wait till my youngest is out of college before I could even think of a change like that."

"You have kids?" Quentin asked. It was a simple question that brought forth a litany of good memories from the man. It was a short conversation, but one of the best Quentin had in a very long time. It was simple, useless information. He felt silly enjoying it. The monster Marcius Thracius no longer held sway over his thoughts. Quentin wondered if that young girl, Maria knew how precious her mother was. Almost as precious as his.

Chapter 27

I couldn't stop smiling. Even in the mirror, I couldn't force my lips to relax. Panic should have been my first reaction. Instead, a warmth I would have never expected filled me with joy. There was a deeper meaning besides the obvious. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

"That was Detective Robertson on the phone," Eric said when I returned to the kitchen. He tossed his phone onto the counter. "He was finally able to verify that Quentin had flown to Germany three months ago. Of course, that doesn't mean he hasn't returned to this country."

"He's not coming back," I said, struggling to keep my lips straight.

"If Robertson has his way, he'll drag him back to face trial. Quentin may have met his match this century," Eric said, sliding me into his arms. I really liked being in those arms. "Quentin will be back, one way or the other."

We had been slowly acclimating Maria to our relationship. With the support of her father, she was more accepting than I would have imagined. She had even asked me if I intended to marry Eric, letting me know that it would be okay with her. Way too mature for an 11-year-old. Then again, few 11-year-olds had been threatened by a lunatic. The idea of a strong man in the house had some appeal.

"It's over," I said for the millionth time. My traitorous lips curled.

"You find my concern humorous?" Eric asked.

"Today, I do," I responded cryptically. I gave up trying to control my smile. Eric leaned his head back to get a better look at my face. The confusion on his was to die for. I had no idea why I loved it when he was off balance. There was just something about those small moments of superiority that excited me. A moral weakness to be sure, but so enjoyable.

"You have a secret," Eric surmised. "Are you going to share?"

"With a liar? I hardly think so," I said with as much smartass as I could muster. Eric smacked my ass lightly. I pushed him away laughing.

"I have never lied to you," Eric said with a smile. His eyes narrowed as he took a predatory step forward. I playfully stepped back.

"He was disturbing my reading," I said, comically mimicking some of his first words to me. He made a grab for my waist, but I dodged easily.

"Okay, once," Eric said, moving around the chair I was using for cover. "In my defense, I was trying to avoid a relationship. It was your own fault for looking so damned sexy." Another half-hearted lunge that I thwarted by jumping backward. I scooted down the hall.

"Oh, your pants are on fire, mister," I said, wiggling my butt at him as I ran into the bedroom. "My father bought it at Sears," I added, reminding him of the Barbie doll he gave Maria. Eric was moving quickly now, knowing I was trapped in the room without another exit. Maria wasn't going to be home from school for another two hours. Plenty of time to play.

"They were white lies at worst," Eric said. I backed toward the bathroom as he moved forward. I let him catch me next to the sink. "I haven't lied to you since you learned the truth."

"Liar," I repeated, then kissed him hard. He pulled me closer, and I felt a shiver run through him. Such an easy man to tease. I un-accidentally knocked the plastic stick off the sink. It rattled to the floor which made him loosen his hold. He chuckled and bent to pick it up. "Liar," I said again. This time softer and with all my love.

Eric stopped mid-laugh. He stared at the device like it was lying to him. When he rose, his eyes had glossed over, and he held out the device. It was one of the dummy proof ones. The LED clearly said 'pregnant.'

"Liar." I smiled. Why the idea thrilled me, I can't say. A baby would rewrite all my plans, wrecking the idea of having Eric all to myself. I used my foot to push the waste can toward him. Inside, two other manufacturers devices claimed I was pregnant. I didn't believe it a first.

Eric squatted down and sifted through the trash, examining the other devices as well. He rose silent, his mouth moving but no adequate words coming out. He looked again at the pregnancy test in his hand, then back at me.

"I didn't...I can't...," Eric stammered. He was so lovely when confused.

"It's truly over, liar." I let my smile radiate my happiness. The ramifications of my pregnancy spread across his face. A million emotions crossed through his eyes then they stilled, and he focused on me.

"Fat women turn me on," Eric said, his eyes dancing with delight.

"Liar!" I said, smacking him in his shoulder. He spent the next two hours and the following nine months of my growing belly proving he was telling the truth. By God, I believed him.

***

"David Marcius Papirius," the female professor enunciated perfectly. She and a male professor were taking turns reading the names. Eric, Maria, and I stood, followed closely by Emma dressed in a cute little blue dress. Eric was glowing with obvious pride.

"I can't see," Emma told her mother. Maria bent down and lifted her daughter into her arms. "There he is," Emma shouted happily. I smiled as David walked across the stage to pick up his diploma. There were times when I thought it wouldn't happen, like when he first learned how the flush the toilet. We found keys, phones, and anything else that would fit in the toilet bowl.

"He looks good," Eric said as David shook the hand of the Chancellor and the other dignitaries on stage. A B.S. in Electrical Engineering and a good job waiting. My eyes began to well up at the thought he wouldn't be living at home anymore, not even during the summer. Eric took my hand, sensing my discomfort. First Maria and now David. My kids had grown up.

"Way to go, Smelly," Maria shouted with love when the diploma was placed in David's hand. I could almost see his face turning red. There were chuckles in the audience, and Emma was waving wildly trying to get her uncle's attention.

"Very mature," I whispered with a smile. Maria just laughed, never afraid to be the loudest in the room. It served her well as a reporter. Peter, her husband, learned to live with it early on. I always thought it was what attracted him to her in the first place.

"It's done," Eric said as the next graduate was called forward. I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed the back of it. We had done well. I smiled and looked at Eric; his hair had grayed at the sideburns, crawling toward the temples. Very distinguished. So very handsome for such an old man.

"Do you regret it?" I asked. He knew I meant the loss of his immortality. I had asked before.

"Never," Eric answered as always. We took our seats, and Emma crawled from her mother's lap to mine. I gave her a tight squeeze and let her get comfortable. Such a lovely grandchild.

"He's going to ask Amy to marry him," Maria said, leaning over.

"What?" I asked, unable to process the statement.

"This weekend," Maria clarified, "he was waiting until he graduated and found a job. Done and done."

"He hardly knows her," I said.

"They've been dating for eight months, Mom," Maria said.

"I like the girl," Eric said.

"You knew about this?"

"David and I talked last night," Eric told me.

"And I'm learning about it now?"

"Didn't want you to be in tears the whole time," Eric said, leaning into me. He was right. Children should grow up more slowly. In little, easily digestible jumps.

"What's wrong, Grandma?" Emma asked.

"You won't grow up, will you?" I asked Emma, wiping my eyes. Eric smiled and put his arm around me.

"I'm almost eight," Emma said as if it were fifty and my thoughts were insane. I laughed and hugged her closer. It was good to feel a child in my arms.

Eric leaned over me and whispered something to Maria. She nodded.

"Want to spend the weekend with us, sweetheart?" Eric asked Emma. "The zoo has a new monkey exhibit I want to see." Emma's head snapped to her mother.

"Can I?" Emma asked her mother excitedly.

"I don't see why not," Maria replied. "I can bring her things over at David's party," she told me. I looked at Eric, wondering if he could read my mind. Emma was just the boost I needed.

"This will be fun," I said, feeding Emma's excitement.

"Better?" Eric whispered the question in my ear.

"Always," I replied. We didn't need sentences anymore. More words would only weaken the meaning. Eric kissed my cheek. Emma, jealous, forced her cheek forward. I laughed as Eric gave it a peck as well.

"I love you, old man," I told Eric. Emma crawled over to his lap and his smile grew. Happiness came easy for him. All it took was family.

The End