Part 2 (1/2)

Why did I think that? Lauren asked herself. She didn't know. She didn't care. She hurried inside. G.o.d, she was going to Mars in a couple of weeks.

TWO.

Two miles from his cabin, Terry Hayes pulled his car onto the shoulder of the road and turned off the engine. The car was running fine, and he didn't need to take a p.i.s.s. He had no reason to stop. In fact, he had plenty of reason to keep going. He had been looking forward to seeing Lauren since he had awoken that morning in Houston. But here he was, taking a break from his busy schedule to have an anxiety attack.

Instead of a drink.

Terry knew there was nothing more pathetic than a frustrated novelist who had become a reporter to pay the bills, unless the reporter just happened to be an alcoholic. He was that man all right, but he wasn't feeling too sorry for himself, just a little. First off, he hadn't had a drink in two years, so he really qualified as an ex-alcoholic, if you didn't listen to what the experts said about people like him always being in a perpetual state of recovery. Second, he might be unable to support himself with his books, but at least three had been published, one back in the days when he had had trouble untying his shoes at night, the other two after he met Lauren.

The first novel had been about four people who were actually only two people: an old couple who traveled back in time to when they were teenagers, to prevent themselves from meeting. The couple had not had a happy life together, and blamed each other. A paperback house in New York gave him a ten grand advance on the book after rejecting a half-dozen of his earlier attempts - and printed thirty-five thousand copies. The publisher brought it out without any fanfare, which automatically gave the book the shelf life of the average magazine. Terry saw the novel in the stores for a month, and stopped drinking for the entire time. But then it disappeared, and he never did see any royalties.

His second book went pretty much the same way as his first, even though it was better written. He had Lauren with him at the time of its publication, and when it came out, they went to every bookstore and supermarket and drugstore in Houston to gloat over it. Not that they found it everywhere they visited. It was a mystery novel, about a disturbed woman who committed suicide. But through an elaborate preset scheme, she managed to implicate all her friends in her supposed murder, in the end sending them to jail for a crime that had never happened.

At least the second book got reviewed in a few papers. They called him 'promising.' Lauren loved that word. She had the reviews framed, and made into Christmas cards, and printed up as wallpaper. It was supposed to be a joke, and Terry laughed, for he had just finished another book, and it was hot, even if the publisher who bought it only thought it was worth fifteen grand. It was about a c.o.c.kroach named Ricky, who lived in a TV set. He was in love with the teenage girl in his house. Ricky was due out in six months, about the time Lauren was supposed to wake from her long trip out. Lauren was on his case to use the publicity surrounding her expedition to promote his story. He thought it would be the act of a shameless fellow, but he was considering it. He didn't want the book dying like the previous two had.

Lauren loved the character Ricky. She said Terry and the c.o.c.kroach were soulmates, and it was true. In the book, Ricky spent half his time trying to kick a white sugar habit that gave him hallucinations. Since kicking booze, Terry had turned into something of a sunflower-seed addict. The seeds didn't make him see anything, though. But if he ate a bag of seeds before he went to sleep at night, he had tons of dreams.

Usually they were about getting drunk.

He had met Lauren while on an a.s.signment for his paper. He was supposed to interview the astronauts who were in training for the Mars mission. But he had not wanted the a.s.signment. He knew nothing about science and had no desire to learn. His editor explained that their readers weren't interested in science, either. The paper wanted a human-interest story: what the astronauts did for recreation; what they thought about premarital s.e.x and abortion; if any of them had ever been arrested for indecent exposure - that sort of thing. Terry told his editor he still didn't want the story. He felt it would be an unbearable compromise to his literary ethics. Plus there was a bar he was itching to visit at lunch time, and his meeting with his editor was taking place at eleven-thirty. But then his editor showed him a picture of Lauren Wagner, and said she was one of the astronauts. Terry thought maybe science deserved a closer look.

At NASA's training center, he spoke to a receptionist who was expecting him. Unfortunately, she said, all the crew were busy in simulators, with the exception of the doctor, who was working out in the gym. He was disappointed. Never in his wildest imagination did it occur to him that NASA would entrust the health of the most expensive human undertaking in history to a woman doctor. Terry wasn't a s.e.xist by any means. He simply believed that most men in power were. But he had told his editor he would come back with a story. He followed the receptionist's directions to the gym.

Of course, when he got there, he found the young woman in the photograph. Dr Lauren Wagner was running on a treadmill, with two wires attached to her chest under her blue T-s.h.i.+rt. Her s.h.i.+ny dark brown hair bounced as she ran, and it was not the only thing that bounced. He had heard bras were unnecessary in s.p.a.ce, and he supposed if she was going to go there someday, she'd better get ready. He introduced himself as an important reporter and asked if he could interview her. She smiled pleasantly, and said, in a few minutes. He saw no reason why he should leave. He sat down and watched her run, for a good twenty minutes. Occasionally she apologized for not talking. She explained that it would interfere with her breathing, and give false measurements on her cardiovascular fitness. So she bounced along. Terry accepted it as all in a day's work. He had already decided he was going to marry her.

Eventually Lauren finished and asked him to wait a few minutes longer while she took a shower. He was feeling bold. He told her his tape recorder was waterproof. She laughed as she walked away. He called after her that he had plenty of time. Then he sat down and began to worry. He knew if he was going to marry her, he was going to have to ask her out.

The next half-hour made him think his watch battery had leaked acid into the gears. But when she finally did reappear, he wished he'd had longer to psych himself up. She wore a white tennis-court skirt and a red top. Her hair was damp. The clothes he could handle, but the wet hair was too much, particularly because it was so dark to begin with. Black hair on a pale-skinned Caucasian was something that he didn't normally see in nature. It was little things like that in a woman that got him. He stood up and almost fell over. She giggled and apologized for the tenth time for keeping him waiting. He shrugged. He was cool. He told her he had plenty of time. Again.

She explained she was not very good at interviews. He said he wasn't, either. She laughed, and he realized he had told a joke. Together they sat on a pile of gymnastic mats. He pulled out his recorder and pointed the mike in her direction. It was a sad testament to the emptiness of his life that he had to fight to keep his hands from trembling. She followed his movements with the sweetest brown eyes he had ever seen. Now it was her eyes he was in love with. Her hair had begun to dry. It was only dark brown, he told himself.

He began to start the interview, but he couldn't think of a single question to ask an astronaut who was going to Mars. He just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

'What's your phone number?' he asked.

Lauren smiled and reached over and turned off his recorder. 'I'll write it down,' she said.

But that's why I've stopped here, Terry thought, a couple of miles shy of the cabin. She can always write it down again for another guy. On Mars she could give it to an alien for all 1 would know.

Yet Terry trusted Lauren. She was completely loyal. He just didn't trust the reasons why she was loyal to him. There didn't seem to be any. Oh, he was funny and nice and took a shower every morning, and stuff like that. But nowadays half the young girls in the country were dreaming about growing up like Dr Lauren Wagner, while he was n.o.body, with as much chance of having his c.o.c.kroach story nominated for the Pulitzer as Ricky had of getting a date with the teenage girl of his dreams. Terry really was like his c.o.c.kroach. He was constantly waiting to be stepped on. Years ago, someone had stepped on him when he had pa.s.sed out drunk at the county fair. It had made a deep impression on him. He had woken up with a broken nose.

Lauren went out with him just once and knew he was an alcoholic, even though he abstained from alcohol for twenty-four hours before their date. She was straightforward: she told him she liked him, but if he kept drinking, she wouldn't speak to him again. And she promised him that she would know if he drank, and the way she said it, he knew she would know. So he stopped. Simple as that. And Mars was the fourth planet from the sun, and they lived on the third planet from the sun, and his woman was going to fly to Mars in a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, and be gone for two years. Yeah, it was very simple. Going sober had been hard. Her leaving was worse. He was proud of Lauren and all that, but he wished she had been the receptionist at Mission Control, and not the famous doctor jogging in the gym.

Terry got back in his car and drove toward the cabin. It was getting dark; he flipped on the lights. Between the thick trees he caught a glimpse of the flat shadow that was the lake. He loved Wyoming. His parents had left him the cabin when they had died together in a plane crash shortly after his twenty-first birthday. That was one thing he had in common with Lauren. She had lost both her parents in a car crash, when she too was only twenty-one - in her first year of medical school. Jennifer was only two at the time. Terry was proud of Lauren for a lot of reasons. If he'd had to raise a little sister from scratch, he wouldn't have been able to hold a job at McDonald's. She amazed him, she really did. He wanted to write a book about her someday.

Terry was reaching for the radio dial when he heard the gunshots. The first one made him jerk the car onto the shoulder of the road. The two did nothing to settle his nerves. He figured they must be from hunters, but he stepped on the gas. When he finally rounded the final mountain turn, and saw Jennifer in the front of his cabin playing with her friend, he was amazed at the intensity of the relief that washed through him. He hated guns. He even hated fireworks. He figured he must have been in dozens of battles in his past lives. Not that he believed in such things, but it kept him from thinking he was a natural neurotic. He parked and got out. Jennifer raced over and jumped in his arms, almost knocking him over.

'Terry! We've been waiting for you all day. This is my friend. Do you know each other?'

'Sure,' Terry said. 'Hi, Danny. It's been a long time.'

Daniel shook his hand. 'Yes, sir. I'm surprised you remembered my name.'

'I have a good memory for names,' Terry said. Jennifer continued to hug him, a bundle of yellow hair, and G.o.d, it was good to hold her. Jennifer had to be the brightest kid he had ever met. Sometimes when he looked at her, he found himself peeking over his shoulder to see who had turned on the spotlight. The kid had charisma, and it was a shame she hid it behind a reserved character. Terry didn't think even Lauren knew how much the expedition had Jennifer worried. h.e.l.l, just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach. He didn't trust technology, not when he couldn't p.r.o.nounce the names of half the devices they had aboard their s.h.i.+p.

'And I never forget a newspaper boy,' Terry added. 'I work for a newspaper myself.'

”That's what Lauren was saying,' Daniel said.

'He's a great writer,' Jennifer said. 'He writes books about time travel and c.o.c.kroaches and stuff.'

'I hate c.o.c.kroaches,' Daniel said.

'You just haven't met the ones in Terry's book,' Jennifer said.

'Hey, Danny,' Terry said. 'Was that your gun I heard?'

The boy hesitated. 'Yes, sir. I'm sorry if it bothered you. I was just shooting at cans.'

'That type of shooting doesn't bother me. Jenny, where's Lauren?'

'She went to put her clothes on,' Daniel said. He winced. 'I mean...

Terry laughed. 'I know what you mean.'

'I'm sure you do,' a soft voice chuckled behind him.

He turned, and Lauren smiled warmly and walked toward him. She wore white shorts, a damp T-s.h.i.+rt. The last few days in the sun had given her a tan that he wished she could carry with her to Mars. Her figure was excellent. Although on the short side, she moved with the confidence of a person who didn't know what it was like to lose, which had intimidated him at first, but which now turned him on. She had Jennifer's great mouth, wide and full of white teeth. She came close to having the little girl's radiant smile, which was saying a lot. Yet, otherwise, the two did not look alike. Lauren was cute. Jennifer was beautiful. Terry had decided long ago he could handle the balance in his life.

She's been swimming. Her hair's wet. G.o.d.

Lauren's hair was straight, cut short, with bangs that reached to her eyebrows. She wiggled her nose at him as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

'Nice of you to drop by,' she said, kissing him.

Terry shrugged. 'I was in the neighborhood.'

Lauren glanced at staring Daniel and Jennifer. 'What are you two looking at?'

Jennifer giggled. Daniel said hastily, 'I better be on my way. I'll come by tomorrow before you leave, Jenny.'

'Come early,' Terry said. 'We're leaving at six.'

'I'll be here before then,' Daniel said firmly. He touched Jennifer's shoulder awkwardly.