"Celebrating what?" Martha asked suspiciously, as she automatically took the cup.
"We’ve positively identified life outside of our own universe." Sam replied excitedly.
Martha managed to look extremely unimpressed. "You mean California?" she asked meanly, tossing back the brandy in one good gulp.
Sam sighed. She knew better than to get exasperated. She’d hurt her friend’s feelings and payback from Martha had always been a bitch.
Patiently, she recounted her last few days to her friend. She gave Martha every detail, from finding the first communication to yesterday’s meeting in Boston.
When finished, she sat back waiting for Martha’s reaction. She didn’t get the one she’d expected.
"This is just great ..... just friggin’ great! S’cuse me." she muttered, reaching past Sam for the brandy bottle.
"First, I’ve got Nana prattling on and on about Gluskabe, scaring the shit out of my boys and now this." she rubbed her forehead tiredly.
"Gluska ...... who?" asked a bewildered Sam.
"Never mind" said Martha, "you wouldn’t understand."
First, she poured for herself and than splashed some into Sam’s glass.
She’s thawing, Sam noted happily.
"What the hell are you talking about, Sam? And don’t forget ... we didn’t all go to fucking MIT."
Sam paced back and forth as she talked. Her hectic schedule over the last few days was starting to catch up to her. Fatigue was setting in. When she finished speaking there was complete silence in the room for a few moments before Martha finally broke it.
"Shit. Kev’s never going to believe this one."
Chapter 16
Over on the Atlantic side of the Island, Happy was sitting outside the Post Office with a small group of old-timers. He and Spike had been to collect the mail - something they did religiously once a week. Not that he ever got anything exciting other than junk flyers, coupons and the occasional Publisher’s Clearing House promise of winning big bucks. His weekly trips to the PO were merely an excuse to socialize and pick up on the current Island gossip.
"I hear she’s got a lot of weird, flashy equipment in her house. Doesn’t sound right to me." Old Mink Ollenburg, knowing he had everyone’s attention, was on a roll.
Happy took that opportunity to relight his pipe, studying Mink as he did so. He’d known him his entire life. They’d gone to school together and off to WW II and now they collected their Social Security checks together. Never did like him much. Mink, who stood just a hair over five feet tall, looked like he’d swallowed a basketball. He had a hump not only on his back but front, as well.
That wasn’t the reason Happy didn’t care for him, though. Hell, Happy had never set much store by how people looked. Truth was, Mink was just plain sneaky.
Always poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Like right now. Mink was the kind of guy who only felt good when he was making someone else feel bad.
"Leave it be, Mink." He said gruffly. "Sam Coley’s a good, hard working girl. It’s not her fault that you’re too stupid to understand what she does with all that equipment."
"Oh," smirked Mink, quickly turning on Happy. "And I suppose you do?"He challenged.
The small cluster of men gathered closer - they didn’t want to miss this. Happy was known for his relatively short fuse.
"Well now," said Happy, blowing out a perfect smoke ring, "guess I do at that.
It’s real simple, actually. Sam listens to conversations from Outer Space. You might say she’s got sort of a high security job."
Mink snorted unattractively. "Jesus, Hap, what have you been smoking in that damn pipe of yours? You really expect us to believe that fairy story?" All the men laughed at Mink’s clever repartee.
"Don’t really give a rat’s ass what you boys believe." Grumbled Happy as he got to his feet. "People used to think hot-air baloons were a fairy tale, too, I expect ‘til one dropped in on them. Come on, boy, we’ve had enough socializing."
Silently, the men watched Happy and Spike head down the road. Just as they disappeared out of sight around a corner, Mink said, "Christ, Hap’s getting crazier all the time."
No one disagreed with him.
Happy knew better than to even try to keep up with Spike. The dog eagerly dove in and out of bushes all the way home chasing anything that moved from butterflies to rabbits.
Happy was deeply troubled. There was simply no getting around the truth of that.
It was an uncomfortable feeling for him. He had spent a good part of his life determined never to succumb to worry. Happy considered it a futile waste of time.
Like paying the rent before it was even due. He’d always believed that you should wait and worry when there was something to damn well worry about. Like now, he thought.
Starting to get winded, he paused for a moment on the path, leaning heavily on his walking stick. Without really seeing it, he gazed out at the choppy, gray waters of the Atlantic. Sudden gusts of wind were making white caps in all directions.
It had taken him a few days, but he’d finally remembered what had happened that night. Guess the mind can only take so much than it sort of shuts down, Happy thought. But, a little bit at a time, the memory had returned to him. Slowly at first, then in one rushing flood of recollection. He couldn’t have stopped it if he had wanted to. God, he wished he hadn’t remembered. Now he knew he should be doing something about it, but what? Who’d believe his story, anyway?
But even as he asked the question, Happy knew the answer. Whistling to Spike, he abruptly changed his course for Sam’s house.
Chapter 17
"To what do I owe this honor?" Sam grinned at her old friend as she opened the front door widely. But her smile quickly faded as she gazed into Happy’s serious and drawn face.
"What’s wrong, Hap?" she asked as she joined him on the porch.
"I need to talk with you, Sam. And I guess I’d like you to let me finish having my say before you speak." At Sam’s amiable nod, he continued. "Something happened to Spike and me the other night ..... something that I want to tell you about."
Sam tried to wait patiently while Happy shuffled his feet and tried to decide where best to start. Sighing heavily, he sank down onto the top step, nervously crunching his cap between his knotty, arthritic fingers. She took a seat beside him.
Encouragingly, Sam asked, "What is it, Hap? You seem really upset." She absent mindedly patted Spike, who had flopped down beside her.
Taking a deep breath, Happy, seeing no other way, jumped in with both feet. "I had a visitor last week, Sammy. You might say a real unexpected visitor," he paused for a moment, "from someplace far away."
Sam narrowed her eyes as she peered suspiciously up at Happy beside her. "How unexpected?" She couldn’t figure out where Happy was going with this conversation.
"Well," he mumbled uncomfortably, "to tell the truth, I’m not real sure where it was from."
"Can you at least tell me what "It" was ?" asked Sam, feeling herself becoming annoyed at his reticense.
"It was a flying machine of some kind." he replied.
"You mean an airplane?" Sam laughed. At the negative shake of Happy’s head, she continued, trying unsuccessfully to control her heightening irritation. "Or perhaps a helicopter. Maybe the National Guard is playing war games out of Bangor again."