Part 22 (2/2)
He turned around, locked onto her enormous eyes.
”Makailah's watching Lily upstairs. Do you want . . .”
”You're running Yosemite?” Caleb asked her quietly.
She nodded.
”Why?”
”This is the Happy Trails race. We're all doing it together, right?”
”You can't risk . . .” He stopped himself. Running an ultramarathon and risk were, of course, inseparable. ”Just be really careful.”
She c.o.c.ked her head at a dramatic angle. ”Everyone's saying you're training too hard.”
”Everyone”-he smiled-”doesn't know everything.”
”So, what did Shane say?”
”Shane?”
”When you told him?”
Caleb looked down at his shoes. He felt weighted down and besotted.
”Oh, Caley. You never told him we're not coming?”
”I haven't had a chance. I don't work at O'Neil's anymore.”
”You need to find a phone somewhere and call him. He thinks we're coming.”
She hesitated. Was there something in her eyes, he wondered? Was this a struggle for her? He looked for something that might tell him it was.
”Lily's really missing you. She wakes up saying 'cay-cay.' Do you think you can play with her while I'm out?”
”Of course.”
”That would be really great.”
Caleb washed his gla.s.s in the sink, set it on a rag. When he had watched her jog down the wood steps and across the snowy field to catch up with everyone, he turned and pushed through the swinging door for the main house.
”Hey,” Makailah grinned when he walked into June and Lily's room.
Lily turned her head to him right away, made a high-pitched and happy sound. A drop of saliva spilled down her chin when she reached out for him.
He sat on the rug, and joined Makailah in rolling a ball back and forth.
After a time Makailah yawned. ”Mind if I go to the bathroom?”
”I have her.”
”Yeah? Okay,” she waved to the baby. ”See you soon, sweetie.”
Alone with Lily he wrapped her in his arms, buried his nose into the soft skin behind her neck, and held her, swaying her gently back and forth, listening to her scratched short breaths. He wondered if he had ever missed anyone so badly in all his life.
He was watching her fall asleep when some noise from downstairs snapped him out of his thoughts. Knowing it was probably Mack, he went downstairs to check.
”Ah!” Mack was shouting, ”some help from the constabulary!”
Just behind him, two wide and well-muscled men carried a pony keg each into the house. On Juan's direction they walked across the large room and placed them by the fireplace. Music switched on from the boom box. As he descended the stairs Caleb saw at least twenty people standing around, red cups of beer in hand.
”Caley!” Mack called, waving him over. ”Meet Superior's finest.”
Caleb was introduced to the police officers, both off duty. He wondered how Mack had befriended them.
One of them was looking at him strangely, his head c.o.c.ked. ”You really run a hundred miles?”
”Not every day,” Caleb smiled. He was feeling off-balance. Something of Lily remained in his arms.
At this point, Caleb would normally have excused himself. But the pain of having lost Lily and June erupted out of him now. He looked instinctively to the front door, considering plunging into the dark roads. Then someone handed him a red plastic cup; right, he thought, there was another cure for agony, and it was all around him.
He drained the cup, and helped himself to another.
Alice touched his shoulder, concerned. He shook his head, smiling to her.
Then he reached for the whiskey and shut his eyes tight as he tilted the bottle back.
4.
The offices of Zouali and Rice were filled with the kind of light only San Francisco might bestow upon lawyers.
Floor to ceiling windows looked down at the foot traffic on Geary Street. The downtown office buildings built on the hill seemed to open their arms. This was all visible from the reception area; however, the office of Brad Whitmore, who was not yet a partner, was small and bereft of sun.
Brad seemed to Shane to be around thirty years old, a bit too lean, with a sharply jutting Adam's apple. A desperate pile of thinning blond hair lay on his head. His long face bespoke a Northeastern lineage. He came recommended by friends of Janelle's.
Shane and Prajuk sat in difficult chairs, facing the lawyer's desk. Prajuk had needed to be dragged here; this was a step beyond what he had agreed to do. But Shane had persuaded him that he could answer questions, clarify, use the proper terminology, that Shane never could hope to. So Prajuk had come but he did not want his name on any doc.u.ment of any kind and seemed convinced that someone would surely force him to sign one. A line of perspiration ran down his brown temple.
Brad was looking at both of them, with an excited look on his thin lips. ”So this protein you're using. Tell me exactly where it came from.”
”My team and I studied, isolated, and cloned it while we were working on a new drug,” Prajuk answered tersely, in his high-pitched voice.
<script>