After several hours of this, Ben had to admit that he’d found a historical peer, and he gleefully involved Sage in all kinds of debates about the minutiae of eras I knew nothing about … except that I had the nagging sense I might have been there for some of them.
For his part, Sage seemed to relish talking about the past with someone who could truly appreciate the detailed anecdotes and stories he’d discovered in his
“research.” By the time we started our descent into Miami, the two were leaning over my seat to chat and laugh together. On the very full flight from Miami to New York, Ben and Sage took the two seats next to each other and gabbed and giggled like middle-school girls. I sat across from them stuck next to an older woman wearing far too much perfume.
I wondered if Ben would have enjoyed the conversation more or less if I’d told him I suspected Sage was speaking from memory, not from education.
I was glad they were talking—it gave me a chance to get my thoughts together. I felt so drawn to Sage. I felt like he was meant to be in my life. I wanted to be around him. Why would I feel that way if he’d killed me in the past? Didn’t it make more sense that he hadn’t? That would explain why he always looked so haunted: Every woman he loved was killed.
Was I going to die too?
I faded in and out of a light sleep as I thought through it all. There was so much I didn’t understand. Like the photographs. I believed Sage when he’d sounded surprised that he’d been in my pictures. He said he’d never seen me before we met on the beach. So why had he been in my pictures from the day I was born? Could that be a sign of some kind of spiritual connection that brought us together lifetime after lifetime? Rayna would love that story. I wondered what Ben would think of it.
Even more, what would my dad think?
Actually, I kind of knew what my dad thought. He wanted to help Sage. He even told Sage he was a good man. So I should trust that, right?
Unless my dad wanted the Elixir so badly he didn’t care if Sage was good or bad, and just said what he needed to say.
The whole thing made my head hurt.
I turned to the heavily perfumed woman.
“You like cribbage?” I offered.
Two hours and an excruciatingly long game of War later (she didn’t play cribbage, but she just loved War), we landed at JFK. Rayna was waiting for us in baggage claim.
“CLEA!!” she screamed, and threw herself into my arms. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but I didn’t care. I hugged her fiercely in return. She pulled away and saw
“CLEA!!” she screamed, and threw herself into my arms. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but I didn’t care. I hugged her fiercely in return. She pulled away and saw Sage, and her eyes went completely round.
“Is this the trouble you’re in?” she asked, looking him up and down. “I so approve.”
“Rayna, this is Sage. Sage, Rayna.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Sage said, offering his hand.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Rayna purred. “Unless, of course, it’s all Clea’s, which is even better.”
Sage smiled and might have even blushed a bit, which was highly entertaining.
Before leading us to the car, Rayna insisted I take her heavy winter coat. It was thirty-four degrees outside, and I was still wearing my little black sundress. Of course, Rayna herself was wearing a lacy push-up camisole. She took Sage’s arm “to keep her steady on the ice,” though I think her main goal was to see if his arm was as muscular as it looked. By the openmouthed gape she shot me after her first squeeze, it was.
“They’d make a cute couple,” Ben said, nodding to Sage and Rayna. “Don’t you think?”
I settled for a noncommittal “Hmm.”
In the car, I slipped into the front seat beside Rayna. With only her eyes, she asked me if Sage was mine. With a scrunch of my nose and a shrug, I explained it was complicated. She nodded—she understood—then gave an eye roll that clearly said I was insane if I did anything but jump at the chance to be with him. The whole conversation took about a second.
On the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Niantic, I filled Rayna in on as much as I could—pretty much everything except my dreams and what I’d found at Sage’s house. It was a lot of highly bizarre stuff, but Rayna took it all in stride. At least now she understood why we had to be so careful about getting into the house.
“This is perfect!” Rayna said. “You could not have picked a better day to come home.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your mom called this morning. Some big government figure is visiting from Israel, and your mom decided they’ll get the most accomplished over a giant impromptu Piri-catered lunch at the house.”
Amazing. Only my mom could manage a last-minute luncheon for a group of dignitaries whose schedules had probably been etched in stone for months. It was the kind of unheard-of thing she had become famous for during her time in Washington.
“So you mean … ,” I started.
But Rayna finished for me, laughing as she said, “The Secret Service showed up at six this morning to go over the whole property with microscopes, and they’re not leaving until the party’s over. If there were dangerous people anywhere near the house, they’re either long gone or in federal custody.”
Excellent—I couldn’t have planned it better. I spun around in my seat.
“Gird yourself, Sage,” I chirped. “I guarantee nothing you’ve ever experienced has prepared you for Piri and my mom in action.”
“I’m sure they’re impressive,” Sage said.
Clearly, he had no idea. He’d learn.
Rayna was right. The Secret Service was all over the house. They knew Ben and Rayna, but “Larry Steczynski” had to be properly vetted. If there was any doubt about the authenticity of his fake ID, it would now be put to the test. As Sage waited for the Secret Service to do their due diligence, I wondered how much our mission to find Dad would be set back by Sage taking a quick detour to federal prison.
“He’s clear,” the lead agent finally said.
Great, we could go in. Sage politely insisted that Rayna and I enter before him.
“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said, but he wouldn’t hear it. Rayna, Ben, and I shared a knowing smile. Then I shrugged and stepped over the threshold … immediately triggering the Piri alarm. I don’t know how she knew; she was all the way in the kitchen. But the minute I stepped into the foyer she raced in, arms waving in the air, a high-pitched scream keening from her lungs.
“AIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!”
“He made me do it, Piri,” I said, happily tossing Sage under the bus. “I tried to tell him—” Piri strode right up to Sage, her head barely reaching his sternum, and jabbed her finger into his chest to emphasize each scolding word. “You never let a woman enter this house before a man! Very bad luck! And when the senator’s doing business! Jaj!”
She pushed us back outside, closed the door, and spit three times on the porch (barely missing the shoes of one of the Secret Service agents), then turned her baleful eyes to Sage, asking him to do the same.
“I don’t think I really need to spit on Clea’s porch,” Sage said uncomfortably, but Piri’s glare only grew more and more violent until he withered under its power … and spit three times. Piri smiled smugly and opened the door, gesturing for Sage to enter. Ben went next, bending to Piri’s ear to murmur, “If it’d been me, I would have gone in first.”
“That’s because you’re a smart boy,” Piri said, kissing him on both cheeks.
Once we were all in, Piri greeted us as if for the first time, with huge hugs and two-cheeked kisses.
As she led us to the luncheon raging in the other room, Ben crowed to Sage, “You know, a real European scholar would be up on old-school superstitions.”
Sage grimaced.
Mom’s party wasn’t huge, but the simple force of all the personalities made it feel like the room was filled with people. As was often the case, Mom was the only woman at the party. Her guests included seven top members of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and a man I’m sure I should have recognized but didn’t, whom I imagined was the Israeli diplomat. They were all feasting from trays that groaned under the weight of traditional Hungarian appetizers like langos (bread puffs with garlic, sour cream, and cheese), several kinds of pogacsa (biscuits), körözött (cheese spread with Hungarian paprika), and fasirt (meatballs). Everyone sat except my mom, who was in the middle of acting out a very colorful story about a horse ride she’d taken with another foreign diplomat.