The Alien Accord Read online

  “I love your show.” He lowered his voice. “I especially liked the Bigfoot episode.”

  Lauren felt color rise in her cheeks. “Thank you, so much.”

  Rowan arrived while they were standing there, and the young man took a step back. “Wow.” He looked up at Rowan. “You’re taller than I expected.”

  Rowan looked blankly at the man. “Rowan Pierce.” He stuck out his hand.

  “Corporal Willis Armstrong,” he said, shaking Rowan’s hand vigorously. “Love your show.”

  “Thank you for your service.” Rowan put his hand on his heart. “Used to wear that uniform myself.”

  “Thank you for your support ... and your service too,” Armstrong said.

  “Corporal Armstrong helped me get the bags off the carousel,” Lauren said. “Did you get the car?”

  “I did,” Rowan said.

  “Are you guys doing another season of The Veritas Codex?” the soldier asked anxiously, grasping his hat between his hands.

  “We’re headed to San Diego to get our marching orders today,” Rowan said.

  “Cool!” He bounced on his toes, glancing over Rowan’s shoulder as an announcer called his name over the PA system. “I gotta go,” he said, shaking Rowan’s hand again, giving Lauren a polite nod, then swooping in for a surprise hug. Lauren laughed but recoiled. “So nice to meet you both.”

  “Thanks for helping out,” Rowan said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Lauren added.

  “The guys aren’t going to believe this.” He started to turn.

  “Wait,” Lauren said. “Quick selfie?”

  “Really?” He grinned. “Sure! That’d be great.”

  * * *

  Lauren felt somewhat refreshed when they arrived at The Network offices. Her good mood, however, didn’t last long. The Network had been bouncing around ideas for the family-themed travel show they wanted to produce for The Exploration Channel’s sister network, the Escape Channel, but nothing had been finalized. The idea Jacob presented now did not sit well with Lauren.

  “Have you lost your ever-loving minds?” The tirade of expletives that followed — interspersed with English, but mostly in her native tongue — not only made Lauren’s face turn five shades of red, but it also made Rowan blush; even though he didn’t understand a word of it. The Network execs looked like they’d been hit by a ton of bricks.

  Clearly, no one expected her response. Rowan caught her arm, attempting to soothe her without words. His cautious look told her he could handle this. Lauren looked like she might protest but pursed her lips and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her body, turning her gaze to the window.

  “I think what Lauren is saying, is have you lost your ever-loving minds?” Rowan said, only a bit more calmly.

  “A luxury vacation in Dubai?” She gasped, clearly affronted. “First off, I’m not taking my son to the Middle East,” Lauren added, but Rowan’s hand tightened on her wrist.

  “Dubai isn’t some third world country, Lauren.” Jacob recoiled, clearly stunned by her reaction. “It’s one of the wealthiest countries in the world and is generally considered safe for travel.”

  “Generally?” Lauren started, rising from her chair, but Rowan’s hand became wrenchingly tight. She turned her angry gaze on him as she yanked her hand out of his grasp and sat back down. She turned her wrath back across the table. “I am a breast-feeding mother, and you want me to travel with my baby to a country with a strict religious code that’s heavily tilted against women in general. Western women in particular are often targeted by government law enforcement for being ... wanton and immoral. Did you know they have women stoned for nursing in public?”

  “Look, we understand your concerns,” Jacob said calmly, trying to soothe her. “We’ve researched everything and there’s no reason that, with a few precautions, you can’t travel safely with your baby.”

  “What kind of precautions?” Rowan asked, before she could.

  “It’s simply a matter of being respectful of the local customs,” Jacob said, sitting back in his chair.

  “Have you met my wife?” Rowan stood, circling around behind his chair. “She’s a modern western woman. She just dropped the f-bomb — along with a few other choice words — in a business meeting. What would happen if she did that in the middle of the mall in Dubai?”

  “Well, that wouldn’t be wise.” Jacob stood too, walking over to the coffee service, refilling his cup. He reached over and took Lauren’s cup and refilled it too, dressing it with cream and sugar just as she would, before setting it back in front of her like an olive branch. Lauren didn’t reach for it. “But the social customs dictate you must comply with their modesty laws, not drink alcohol, and we’re not sending you during Ramadan, so at least you won’t have to worry about the fasting rules.”

  “They wouldn’t apply to me or to Henry either,” Lauren said. “I’ve been to Muslim countries. I know the laws, but I will not go ... nor will I take my son and that is final.”

  Rowan’s hand went to her shoulder, and he stood in solidarity with her.

  “The Dubai Travel Commission is prepared to fund your entire vacation,” Jacob said.

  “We’re not going to be on vacation,” Lauren said curtly. “We’re working.”

  “A poor choice of words.” Jacob conceded, holding back his hands as he sat down. “But they’re offering to put you up in the finest beach-front resort properties, all the first-class accommodations, including a limo with a driver.”

  “How much does that cost?”

  “Over $10,000,” Jacob said. “But what a way to kick off the new show, right?”

  “I thought the goal of this concept was to encourage the American public to take a vacation,” Rowan said. “What family in the US could afford that?”

  “I don’t know about this concept,” Lauren said. “I mean it sounded good six months ago, but I’ve been having second thoughts.”

  “Contracts have already been signed, Lauren,” Jacob said. “Are you prepared to breech your contract?”

  “Of course not,” Lauren said. “But when we signed the contracts nothing had been decided. I’m just wondering if there’s not some room for ... negotiation ... on our destinations or our purpose when we get there. When we agreed to this concept, we knew it was outside our roles as paranormal researchers. I get that you want something new and different for the Escape Channel. You said you wanted us to promote a longing for travel, a spirit of discovery, but if the American public is anything like Rowan and I, they’re not going to want to just lay on the beach and drink rum punch all day long.”

  “What’s wrong with laying on a beach drinking rum all day?” Jacob quipped.

  “Nothing. But people want adventure in their lives. They want to explore mysteries on their own. I think that’s why our shows have been so popular. People want to live a life like ours. They want to experience something new. They want to walk in the footsteps of their forefathers, explore new places and meet new people; they want to do something.”

  Jacob glanced at the other execs at the table, shaking his head. He folded his hands and frowned at Lauren. She sat back waiting for a response.

  “We did have one other concept we’d pitched before we started developing this one,” Curt Jamison, one of the Escape Channel producers offered.

  “Which one, Curt?” Jacob arched a brow. He didn’t look pleased that his cohort would show anything but solidarity in this meeting, at least that’s how Lauren read his expression.

  “Well since it’s a show about family, why not show them tracing their roots, and sharing in some of the adventures their ancestors faced?” Curt said. “Those ancestor research programs on public television are huge right now. The overhead isn’t bad. We have a couple of sponsors already asking about a program like this. Think about it...” He turned to Rowan and Lauren, folding his hands across the table, opening them as he spoke. “We can start with your own immediate families, and then branch out through the ge
nerations.”

  “My mother claims we’re descended from Robert the Bruce.” Rowan turned to Lauren. “She’s got our family tree back to the 1200’s if memory serves me right.”

  “We can have a genealogist help track down your family tree, and then you can go to places where ... how did Lauren put it? Where your ancestors walked?”

  Lauren glanced at Rowan as he sat back down beside her.

  “Do you know where my ancestors walked?” Lauren asked sharply. “Nu-na-hi du-na dlo-hi lu’i.”

  “Excuse me?” Jacob lifted his brow over the wide rim of his glasses.

  “My ancestors walked The Trail.” Lauren’s voice went dark.

  “The Trail?”

  “The Trail Where They Cried,” she said. “The Trail of Tears.”

  “What about your parents?” Jacob seemed unfazed, which made Lauren all the more cross. “I mean, I have met Rowan’s parents, but I’ve never heard you talk about yours.”

  “My father left before I was born,” she said. “My mother and I are ... not close.”

  “What does your mother do?”

  “She teaches at the Cherokee Heritage Center ... at least the last time I talked to her.”

  A spark appeared in Jacob’s eye. “You have papers? Tribal records?”

  “Excuse me?” Lauren stopped, irritated at the term. “Do you think I’m some kind of pedigreed poodle?”

  “Apologies, again ... another poor choice of words.” Jacob couldn’t seem to win today, but Lauren allowed him to hang himself with his own words.

  “I know you mean well.” She took a deep breath. “The Cherokee Tribe helped pay for my college tuition. I wore my tribal stole when I graduated. I’m immensely proud of my heritage, just not interested in digging up old hurts among my family. Why can’t we go looking for aliens in Roswell or the Fouke Monster in Arkansas?”

  Jacob seemed to surrender. He turned to Rowan, but Curt took over before he could continue. He addressed his comment to Lauren. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “If you are willing to put together the pilot of your family trees, maybe we could finish off with something paranormal like past life regression. If nothing else, we might get another great two-hour special to work with. If the concept takes off, then who knows where it could go. We could even do an episode on Bahati and Jean-René. Heck, we can get all the Network stars involved.”

  “The way I see it, we just need to get you working and I’m willing to start off slow.” Curt turned to Jacob. “I have a genealogist I worked with on another pilot that never took off. Lauren, let’s start with your family tree, then we’ll work on Rowan’s. Maybe your mom can send what she has.”

  “Better yet, why don’t we just go to Denver and get it? They’re itching to see their grandson,” Rowan said.

  “Maybe after we get a start on Lauren’s,” Jacob said, insisting. “We have a lot more work to do tracing her roots. We’ll get ahold of the genealogist and get her started. Gather Jean-René and Bahati, along with any equipment you need. You can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  “But ...” Lauren sputtered. Everything happened so fast, her protests went unanswered.

  “Don’t you have a famous brother who works for NASA?” Curt asked.

  Lauren’s brow drew down, and Rowan heard her teeth saw against each other as she clenched her jaw. “Maybe we should call George instead,” he said. “He still lives in the family home near Tahlequah. Surely he has records, pictures ... things we can use.”

  “I don’t know,” Jacob said. “A brother that works for NASA is pretty cool ...”

  “You’d think,” Lauren groused. “Michael is an ....” The tirade began again.

  Rowan turned to her and put a hand on her arm. “We can do this without Michael’s help.”

  “If I have to call him or my mother, I won’t do it. No way ... not in a million years ...” she blurted out. She glanced at the startled expressions that met her from across the table.

  “I’m certain we’ll find your ancestors are as strong and brilliant as you are. What harm could there be to look?” Rowan arched a brow. Lauren sat back with her arms crossed.

  “Fine.” She lifted her shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Whatever.”

  * * *

  Lauren made a hasty retreat from the conference room, skipping the elevator and heading straight for the stairwell, mindless of whether or not Rowan followed behind her. She wanted to get back to Bahati and Jean-René’s house. They were babysitting Henry, and it would be time for his supper when they got there. As much as she loved Bahati and Jean-René, she’d never left her baby with anyone other than Rowan.

  Rowan got her door at the car, surprising her, but she thanked him with a silent nod. They didn’t speak until they were in the rental car, back on the highway across town. “Did I come across as too harsh?” she asked.

  “You were honest,” Rowan said. “I don’t know that I’d have used the same language, but I was thinking what you said. You got the message across.”

  “I didn’t mean to swear like that.” She stared at her thumbnail. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  This wasn’t like her. She seemed anxious. Rowan knew his wife to be confident, almost to the point of arrogance, but this was a new aspect of her that he found disconcerting. Rowan reached over for her hand, taking it in his. “You said what you had to say, honey. I’m only glad you said it in Cherokee.”

  “Only part of that was in Cherokee,” she said curtly. “Bulgarian is very effective for cursing.”

  “Bulgarian, huh?” He mused. Another one of those forces in the universe that she now had at her command was an aptitude for language, not just her native tongue, but all languages. Rowan turned his attention back to the road, but in his mind, he replayed the meeting. “You didn’t seem very keen on the idea of tracing your family history.”

  “I like the concept even less than the vacation in Dubai.” She turned and stared out the passenger side window for a long moment. When she spoke again, Lauren turned and looked at him. “You know how I feel about my family,” she said bluntly.

  “Maybe we’ll might find something interesting,” Rowan suggested. “Or maybe you’ll learn more about why your family is the way it is.”

  “Oh I know why my mother is the way she is,” Lauren groused. “She’s mean and manipulative.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “Does the devil need a reason to be evil?” The vitriol in her voice surprised even her.

  “Ouch!” Rowan winced, signaling for the exit.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree with Michael.” She turned her gaze back to the passing scenery. “Maybe my father’s family is more interesting.” She shrugged, pulling her sweater around her body. Rowan noticed and reached to turn down the blower on the AC. “Your family though, that is going to be fun.”

  “You just want to go to Scotland, don’t you?” His dimples appeared in the corner of his cheek.

  Her sour expression faded. “You promised me I’d get to see you in a kilt again.”

  “Well, it may be a while, depending on how long it takes to find something on your family tree,” he said, merging into the right lane. “So what do you know about your father?”

  The shadow returned over her visage and she remained silent for a long while. “John Grayson, born in Oklahoma, joined the military and served in Vietnam. I never knew him, but my older brothers did, and they adored him, but ... they said he was different when he came home. One day, he went to town to get supplies to fix the kitchen sink, and he never came home.”

  “You never heard from him?” Rowan glanced over, as her eyes filled with tears. She fought to keep them behind her lashes.

  “Promise me you’ll never do that to Henry.” Her voice cracked.

  Rowan abruptly signaled and pulled the car into a parking lot, found a spot, and put it in park before unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned, taking her hand, gazing into her dark eyes. “I swear on everything holy i
n this world, I will never leave you or Henry. You know that, right?”

  She bit her lip, willing tears not to escape her eyes. “I do.” She sniffed. “I wouldn’t have married you if I thought you’d do something like that. But ...”

  “What?”

  “I still don’t know why my father left,” she said. “It scares me that I might do something to make you leave your child ... your children ... I could stand you leaving me, I think, but ... Henry needs his father. You’re such a good dad ... it kills me to think about a life for him ... without you.” Tears escaped her blockade and ran unchecked down her cheeks.

  “Lauren, listen to me.” He caught both her hands in his. “I will never leave you, Lauren ... or Henry. Ever.” Rowan pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, burying his face into her hair, breathing deeply of her, feeling her body tremble as she fought back a sob.

  Chapter 2

  Michael stood at the counter in the security office at the Houston Space Center waiting for his credentials. It was mid-afternoon and he hadn’t even checked in at the hotel yet. He knew he would need to renew his security pass before he could meet with anyone. He also knew there would be mandatory safety training he’d be expected to complete before he could even meet with the Finance or Engineering Departments. His first appointment with the Grant team wasn’t until the following day.

  “Michael? Michael Grayson?” A soft voice, with a deep Texas drawl, called from the door.

  Michael felt a chill run through him, and his heart fluttered in his chest, recognizing the voice. With great effort, he composed himself, then turned slowly. “Kitty Donovan?” He nearly gasped when he saw the most beautiful woman on earth standing behind him in the lobby.

  She took three steps towards him but stopped just within arm’s reach. “I knew that was you! I’ve never known a man anywhere with hair more luxurious than yours,” she gushed, reaching out and running her hand down his long ponytail. “It’s gotten so long!” It hung past his belt, and it was his greatest pride. He took meticulous care of his raven locks, brushing it and keeping it well-conditioned. It hadn’t been cut since he was a boy, and he hoped it would continue to grow long and thick ‘til it was as white as Kitty’s alabaster complexion. The thought made his stomach flip. He hadn’t seen her since they’d graduated from the University of Oklahoma’s engineering department.