Chapter Two
Veronica stared at it in shock. She touched it, her face incredulous. He would have to be incomprehensibly strong to have dented this table. It was solid oak, and had stood in that kitchen without a mark on it for over two decades. Her brain began to work, and for the first time she really thought about what had happened. She had found a boy in a spaceship. That wasn’t normal. That in and of itself should have been enough to give her pause in the first place, but she’d just pulled him out and took him home, never stopping to truly wonder why he weighed near three hundred pounds, had unnatural eyes, and didn’t speak her language. And what about the phone at the neighbors’ house? How had he done that? Now he was outside, alone with her grandfather, and she had no real idea what his intention was, where he came from, or whether he was safe. He seemed safe, just scared, but she couldn’t know that for sure. She leaned against the table. Her face was contracted into a concentrated scowl. She needed answers, but had no idea how to get them. Perhaps that was what her grandfather was doing this instant, but it was never entirely possible to tell what her grandfather was doing at any given time. One second he’d seem to be peacefully sleeping, the next he’d be wide awake with a distant fire in his eyes, fiercely toying with something in his hand, muttering about the different parts and walking himself through it. Other times he’d be as he had been last night, quiet, concentrated, level headed. He knew what needed to be done, and got it done. He would want answers just as much as she would, she told herself. There was no need to take the matter into her own hands, grandfather would take care of it. She tried to make herself believe it, as she cleared the dishes away and got to work on the housework. But even her artist’s mind was too rational to dismiss it just like that. It was possible, she guessed, that the language he was speaking was merely something she’d never heard that her grandfather was fluent in, he didn’t often speak of what he was before he was a farmer. For all she knew he could have known lots of languages. If she really wanted to, she could tell herself any story she wanted. The boy could be an inventor from a different part of the world, who had crashed his experimental craft into a canyon on the midwest. She frowned as she scrubbed the counter and rinsed her cloth. She paused over the sink, thinking hard. Even that doesn’t explain his weight. I can’t just wish away that fact by stories I make up. She stopped short, suddenly remembering the metal she’d found along with the boy, and tried to remember what she’d done with it. She remembered putting it down on Gi’s night stand the night before, it was digging into her flesh where she’d tucked it into her waistband. She went into Gi’s room, and looked around. Nothing was different than the night before, except that the blankets on the bed were tousled. She picked up the metal and tossed its unusual weight in her palm. It glittered green and silver in the morning light. I wasn’t making it up in my head, everything about him is heavy. Heavy and green. She looked around the room again, looking for any other clues. She remembered the satchel, and took it off its hook on the door. She sank slowly onto the bed, examining the small metal pieces inside it. Some of them appeared to be games, puzzles. Others appeared to be hardware. She heard the screen door open and close, and her head shot up. She stuffed the items back into the bag, hung it up and busied herself with making the bed.
When she returned to the kitchen, her grandfather and the boy were back at the table, silent. The boy looked pale, and kept looking at her grandfather, a mix of awe, fear, and bewilderment on his face. Grandfather looked grim and calm. Veronica entered the room quietly, watching the two with curiosity.
“What’s the plan for today, Grandfather?” Without looking up from the table he answered, “Nothing unusual. Weed the garden, take care of the animals, anything you can think of.” He looked up and smiled his old man smile at her. She smiled back, but hesitated. Without giving any physical indication of who she was talking about, she asked,
“What about the boy? Are we going to report him in town?” Grandfather’s face didn’t change as he responded.
“He’s going to stay with us, Vern. I’ll explain everything to you tonight. And Vern--” He looked her in the eyes. “You’re going to have a hard time believing it. All you need to know for today, is that you can trust him. Try to teach him our language, make him feel at home, show him what you do. He’s come a long way.” Her bright blue eyes were layered with puzzlement and surprise, but she just nodded slowly, and turned to the boy. He looked from Clae to Veronica, he hadn’t understood the conversation almost at all. She gave him a half smile, and jerked her head for him to follow. The chair scraped the floor as he stood up, and walked behind her outside.
