The Paradox Initiative (30 page)

They stepped into a broad, towering white entryway, dominated by a sweeping staircase, and peaked by a crystal chandelier.

“I’m not going to take it away from the Society for Antiquities,” Wolfe said, his voice echoing as he pulled her to the left and through another door. “But I’m going to close off the upper floors to the public.”

They entered a lovely morning room, complete with a baby grand piano, open windows and soft yellow furniture. Wolfe kept hold of her
fingers.

“This was my mother’s favorite room. She always entertained in here,” he said.

“It’s very pretty,” Kestrel managed honestly. He glanced down at her.

“You like it?”

“I do,” she nodded. He softened.

He took her out into the drawing room, across it, and into a dark-wood study—

Packed
with antique books. Kestrel instantly felt light-headed.

“I’ve never seen this many
…” she breathed. A trace of a smile crossed Wolfe’s lips.

“I lived in here during the winter,” he told her, gesturing to a
green chair in the corner by a short table and lamp. “And that was my father’s desk,” he pointed to a broad, ebony desk that probably weighed a thousand pounds.

“It’s impressive,” Kestrel said, running her free hand across its smooth surface.

“I am…Well, I can’t believe it survived,” Wolfe said, his voice unsteady. Kestrel looked up at him, but he was glancing around the room.

He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand, then took her out of
the study and toward the staircase. They climbed up it wordlessly, Kestrel sliding her hand along the banister. At the top, they entered a long, bright hallway hung with portraits—most of which featured children sitting amongst flowers. Their footsteps creaked on the wooden flooring.

“This was a guest bedroom,” Wolfe pointed to a door to he
r right. “Another guest bedroom;
my
room,” he said, stepping up and pushing the door out of the way. He shook his head. “They told me there was a leak and the ceiling fell in and ruined everything—it doesn’t look anything like it did.”

Kestrel took a look. Dark wood, blue walls, a twin-sized bed, a chest of draw
ers and a masculine vanity mirror. All very plain.

“
This
, on the other hand,” Wolfe pulled her out of that room and on down the hall. “Has managed to stay almost the same.” They paused in front of great double doors at the end of the corridor. He pushed them both open.

R
ed carpet. A king-sized bed half hung with embroidered drapes. Lace curtains hanging at the two windows. Two impressive wardrobes; a woman’s vanity set and a man’s, at opposite ends of the room. Wolfe did not pull Kestrel inside.

“This is the master bedroom,” he said. “What do you think of it?”

She glanced up at him. He was watching her. Very carefully. She swallowed, her face heating up, and determined to give an honest assessment.

“Well…” she said. “I love the window seats. And the curtains are gorgeous.
”

“Anything you would change?”

She hesitated. Looked up at him again.

“Really?” she asked.

He waited.

“
Um…I’m not sure I like the red carpet,” Kestrel ventured. “Maybe something more neutral? I think it would match the rest of the room, and the house, better.”

He considered the
chamber. Nodded firmly. Squeezed her hand, turned her and led her further up the stairs.

He showed her the nursery
on the third floor, where he told her he’d fallen over his toys that he’d refused to pick up, and broken his arm. He also showed her the servants’ quarters, which he noted were now used to store Christmas decorations. Then he took her all the way back downstairs, and they trailed through the grand maroon-colored parlor, the lavish dining room, the enormous ballroom, the pink breakfast room and the state-of-the-art kitchen. He told her all about the new plumbing, and the heating and air-conditioning system that had been put in just a few years ago—put in
very
carefully, so as not to ruin any of the walls or flooring. Then he drew her back outside, into the summer heat, and they strolled around toward the back of the mansion, hand in hand.

“
We
didn’t have a vine on the side of the house,” Wolfe noted. “Mother didn’t like the idea—she thought it’d start climbing in through the windows.”

Kestrel laughed.

“
I
like it.”

“Yeah,” Wolfe smiled up at the twining plant. “I do too.”

They passed around the back corner of the house, and Kestrel caught sight of a rear building she hadn’t seen before: a majestic, old, white stable. The two walked underneath the shady arms of another huge oak, listening to the birds tweeting in its upper reaches.

“There’s only one horse here right now,” Wolfe told her as they reentered the sunshine and their feet brushed through the wildflowers. “She’s semi-retired, and pulls a buggy for tourists. I’d like to get more horses, maybe two or three young ones to ride. Have you ever ridden?”

“Just a blastbike,” Kestrel answered.

“Nothing alike,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll take you to auction. You can pick one out.”

“A horse?” Kestrel’s heart jumped. He looked at her.

“Would you like one?”

She suddenly grinned.

“
Yes
,” she nodded. “I…Yes, I would.”

They reached the stables, and he gave her a tour of the whole thing, telling her all about his great black horse named
Captain that he’d bred, raised and broken himself—then ridden him into and lost him to the war. His mother had had a strawberry mare, his father a big bay. And when he’d been very little, he’d had a gray pony named Swift. Kestrel watched him as he spoke, as he gestured. With every word, she saw weight lift from him, and his scars seemed to fade. And he never let go of her hand.

Finally, he tucked her arm under his and pressed her hand to his chest, and escorted her back past the house and down the hill into the trees, toward the picnic lawn.

Dozens of people sat at the tables, all dressed in bright colors, eating and talking. But Wolfe led her past them, toward the shaded lane.

“Oh, good! You found her!”

They turned and saw Dr. Hildibrand clasp her hands together in pleasure. She smiled at them.

“Yes, thank you Miss Helen,” Wolfe inclined his head to her. “Have a good afternoon.”

“We will, thank you,” she promised.

“Where are
we
going?” Kestrel asked quietly as they strode away from the party and back up the road she’d walked in on. His eyes gained a tinge of sadness.

“I have to show you something.”

Kestrel frowned, but didn’t press him. They strolled the rest of the way without saying anything, gently swinging their linked hands. When they reached the gate, Wolfe smiled at the older man waiting outside.

“Hello, Mr. Charles.”

“Hello, Mr. Wolfe,” Charles replied. “Here’s your taxi for you.”

“Thank you,” Wolfe nodded, and drew Kestrel up to the side of a two-passenger taxi that stood waiting. Kestrel’s curiosity flared from the mere embers it was before, but she didn’t say anything—she had to let go of Wolfe to get inside. He bent down and slid in after her, shut the door, and immediately picked up her hand again, her right one this time. He focused straight ahead, even as he absently rubbed his fingertips across her palm and up and down her fingers.

The android had apparently been pre-programmed—the taxi sped off, back down the winding road, and up to the train station again. They got out, walked through the bustle and out onto the platform. Wolfe dug in his pocket, slid a card through a reader, and the train doors opened. They climbed onboard the comfortable car, and Kestrel chose a pair of seats. They sat down, and he laid an arm around her shoulders.

For the hundredth time, Kestrel glanced up at his face—but for the first time, she sensed something within him, something that wrestled deep inside him. It wasn’t that he wished to show her affection by putting his arm around her. Instead, it was as if he couldn’t
resist the impulse. As if he couldn’t bear it if she was not touching him.

She eased against
his side, feeling his hand rest on her arm. But the tension remained in his chest even as the train lurched out of the station.

They rode for a very long time. Kestrel watched the country flit by outside, gradually flattening. The train stopped at The Hub in Kansas City, but they didn’t get off. The speed train continued west, and the land calmed, the forests faded back, and the sky opened up. Finally, the train hit a small town called Valley Falls, Kansas, and Wolfe stood up, pulling Kestrel with him. They got off the train, moved through the station, and again stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine.

It smelled different here. The air was filled with the scent of sun-baked grass. They caught another cab, climbed in, and Wolfe leaned forward.

“320 Jefferson, please,” he said.

“
The farm, sir?”
the android asked.

“Yes.”

The cab drove off, and they left the station behind.

As soon as they left the limits of the town,
Kestrel’s attention wandered over the light green hills of waving grass, the gentle valleys filled with shimmering cottonwoods, and the herds of brown, grazing cattle. The sky had altered completely, gained a towering depth, a piercing, pure blue that she didn’t remember seeing in a very long time.

They turned, and headed down a perfectly straight road, Kestrel counting the gleaming silver fence posts as they went. Finally, they drew to a stop by a tall, iron ranch gate. Wolfe slipped his credit card into the reader, and they got out.

“Wait for us,” Wolfe instructed the android. “We won’t be long.”

“Yes, sir.”

Together, Wolfe and Kestrel strode through the gate, and up to a massive blue farm house, flanked by two great industrial barns and three mighty silos. Two dogs came barreling out, barking—Wolfe didn’t break stride. The dogs jumped all around them, panting excitedly. Wolfe reached down once and tousled the black lab’s ears. Kestrel petted the head of an Irish setter, who then glued her shoulder to Kestrel’s right leg and looked up at her adoringly, her tongue lolling. Kestrel laughed.

“Jack
, boy!”

Kestrel looked up to see a middle-aged
, bearded man standing out on the porch, wearing jeans, boots and a work shirt. Gregarious smile-lines marked his face.

“Mr. Carter,” Wolfe greeted him, raising a hand. “How are you?”

“Good!” Carter answered. “Just came in for supper! Why don’t you join us?”

Startled, Kestrel
glanced back and forth between the two men. Wolfe shook his head.

“We’d love to, but we can’t stay long.” Wolfe motioned to Kestrel. “Kestrel, this is Aaron Carter. Mr. Carter, this is Miss Kestrel Evans.”

“Nice to meet you,” Carter said, coming down off his porch toward them. “When Jack here told me what was on my property, I couldn’t believe it—but he got those archaeologists in here and wouldn’t you know it?” He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad, though. Now that poor girl can get the rest she deserves.”

Wolfe quietly smiled, and lowered his head.
Kestrel watched them carefully.

“So you’re here to show her that
site, huh?” Carter squinted at Wolfe. Wolfe nodded.

“Yeah, if it isn’t any trouble.”

“No trouble!” Carter cried. “You go right ahead. And I don’t care what you say, stop in and get a drink of something before you head back. It’s close to a hundred degrees out here.”

“Thank you,” Wolfe said again.

“I’d better get inside—my wife’s going to holler at me,” Carter winked. “Nice to meet you, again, Miss Evans.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Kestrel answered.
Carter charged back up his porch steps, pulled the door open and went back inside.

“This way,”
Wolfe tugged slightly on her hand, and together they rounded one of the silos. Thick grass waited for them, and a narrow path cut through it. Wolfe had to lead, still gripping her fingers. The dogs didn’t pay any attention to the path—they bounced headlong through the weeds, sending the buzzing grasshoppers flying. They continued down a slight hill, to a thicket of trees. Kestrel heard water gurgling as they entered the shade.

They stopped at the edge of a wide, shallow, sandy-bottomed creek—completely clear, singing softly. The dogs ploughed into it, splashing recklessly, and
lowered their mouths to take sloppy drinks. Kestrel hesitated—

Wolfe pulled her closer, bent and picked her up. She gasped and held on tight as he stepped
up to his knees into the creek, and carried her across to the other side. He sloshed up onto the bank and set her down lightly.

“
Thank you.”