The Girl Who Chases the Wind

Chapter 12: The Past

Even on standard drive, my car easily outraced the storm. I stared at the vestigial foot pedals and shriveled wheel. Leftover promises of control. I couldn’t actually drive. My car had a license, not me, and the insurance premiums for human drivers made it a luxury for the super-rich.

I leaned back in the chair. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to the ranch. I had my notes to one side with the rough, new questions of the day scribbled below. Mari was naturally underlined with all the stuff from Edgar and Ada accented with question marks. I tapped my notes about Kala as my eyes flicked between them and questions I had about Feldon.

Pressing my head against the window did nothing to resolve my bitter confusion. Soon, I’d be back on the ranch. I’d have to face Feldon.

In my head, I went back and forth between imagining how I might confront him between playing it cool and not mentioning what I knew. I rubbed my head as my right eye gave that little quiver it sometimes did.

All too soon, I was back in the parking lot and the car was maneuvering into a space. I picked myself up from the seat and braced myself with the door. With a breath, I took one step and then another towards the front door.

It felt strange to walk through that threshold with no reaction from anyone. The receptionist just gave me a once-over of recognition before returning to her work. Everyone moved in their own little spaces, contained. I passed Feldon’s office on my way to the cafeteria. As expected, the door was closed. I didn’t test to see if it was locked or if anyone might respond to a knock.

What I got at the cafeteria wasn’t any healthier than the snacks from the station. I wanted something hard. Real liquor. Maybe mixed with something minty. I rarely drank. My uncle provided the perfect example of why to avoid drinking. But every so often, I needed something.

Instead of a drink, I scratched nervously at my arms and drained something high in fructose and fake fruit. I was probably doing more damage with that than a few shots to my liver.

Strumming the cup, I barely noticed Lily slip in the side door and eye the pastries under glass on the other side of the room. I jerked up and quietly called to her with a hand raised. She paused with my voice before politely putting up a hand. She approached but not closely. I had to wonder what was going through her head as she spoke.

“Hi there… How are you?”

I noticed her restraint, a feeling it seemed like she wanted to break free from, like a controlled, wavering flame. She was dressed in pretty normal street clothes with a blue top which clashed with her hair and a subdued pair of tan jeans.

So many possible answers lay before me. Just sitting there and waiting was an answer. It was a technique I neglected to use more often. Project a pleasant demeanor but hold my words, let the other person fill the air with them. I had no idea if it would work on Lily.

I answered, “Tired. Yourself?”

She sent me a sympathetic look and came closer to say only, “I’m fine.”

I asked, “Are you getting some cake?”

She couldn’t disguise her desire as her eyes lingered on the row of pastries. With a smile, I offered to buy her any she liked. She selected several flavored in her preferred fashion. With little plates of cake and ice cream laid before her, she dug in and ate quickly.

I got myself the soup of the day and sat with her. Eating, she didn’t really need to speak. However, the glances she gave me seemed to say she wanted to. I ate sedately and sent out my first volley.

“I saw Mari running earlier. Her legs got messed up.”

Lily seized up with cake puffing out her cheeks and strained to keep from choking and spraying it. She drank a big gulp of water, cleared her throat once, and put a hand behind her fiery locks.

“That so? Aww.”

“Yeah.” It came time to test my idea. I kept my gaze calmly on Lily and wordlessly tried to invite her to speak. It wasn’t really a success. She retreated behind her cake like a creamy fortress before she started stuffing her mouth again. She did give me one tidbit to keep the conversation going, something I already knew but still worth the effort.

“It happens a lot. She’ll be fine...”

I leaned over the table and noted, “She mentioned that. So you know, I’m talking about your green-haired friend from yesterday. She gave me permission to use that name for her. I guess she likes me.”

That earned a laugh from Lily. “Lucky. Yeah, Mari. Sorry I didn’t say. Stuff…”

I assured her, “It’s quite alright. Even without you telling me, I figured things out….I know what’s going on.”

I locked my eyes on hers. Her spoon squeaked across the bowl like a skipping record (I actually had a few old ones in my closet). That alone was a kind of confirmation without saying anything. Despite the jitter, Lily kept her smile and asked, “Oh? What’s that?”

Honestly, I had nothing to go on but I’d listened to these people the last few days, I had a sense of how to be nicely vague. I did it from time to time in articles with patron exceptions where I needed to be careful.

I told her, “I know what…Dr. Feldon wants with me. And if he won’t just come out and admit it…if he won’t quit treating me like a fool to be manipulated, then he’ll never see me again. I will walk out that door and never come back…” A gamble. With one question, she could shake the foundation of my statement. But I stood with it.

The spoon came clattering out of her mouth. She looked flustered, but her eyes held on me with unblinking resolution. They seemed even bigger like that.

“No! Please! Forgive him. He…his ways. It’s not manipulation. I just…it’s been so long…” She pleaded, the sound of tears dipping through her words.

I folded my hands on the table and asked simply, “So long since what?”

Lily looked down at the cake and then across at me. She took a breath. “I don’t know how much you know about his past.”

I flipped through my notes. “He mentioned a civil war and the day a sniper attacked his wife and family. He didn’t say much more. I’m guessing the sniper killed his children, along with his wife.”

Slowly, Lily’s hands bunched up. She stared down at the table. “May…she. May…was never very tall. Always skinny, especially growing up. But she…made herself a shield for the children. They tried to hide.”

I barely breathed. The way Lily spoke about May had a similar edge of connection and pain as Feldon’s words. I resisted pushing her, I only asked, “The children?”

In a moment, her eyes might’ve fluttered up and she’d vanish in a flash of embarrassment and uncertainty. I held steady and waited for her to continue.

She coughed softly into a hand and nodded once before explaining, “Just kids going to school. May saved two who clung to her legs. They visit her gravestone in Odessa every year.” Lily stopped there. Carefully, she prodded at her cake.

I wanted to reach out and touch her hand. I wanted to ask the next, obvious question. What about the Feldon children? It felt like something crucial was just out of reach. But I drew back. I let her have her time.

Clutching the edges of her plate, Lily finally told me. “And the girls. She had three little girls. Well, actually Dalya would’ve gotten upset if you called her little. She was so feisty but sweet. She was so…precious…” Lily shut her eyes a few times as they held the impression of tears if not the actual appearance of them.

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This time, I reached out for her hand. I shouldn’t have but I stated, “You knew Dalya.”

And that was too much. Lily slipped away, holding her palms to her chest. She took a slow breath and said, “I’m sorry. There are things I shouldn’t say. I’ll only say… please don’t go yet. No matter what you think, Feldon is a good man….I’m sorry…”

With that, she stood up and took her plate with her. And I was left at the booth with just as many questions. But I was convinced Lily knew Dalya. So, that meant she had to be at least thirty years old. And what happened to Dalya? No idea. But I could only imagine the worst from Lily’s reaction. As well, two other girls whose names I didn’t know. Images of Edgar’s screen filled my mind.

I could’ve made good on my promise to leave, but my curiosity was only rising. For some reason, someone at the ranch wanted me here and I had no idea why. I decided to try pressing Kala with the evidence I had while keeping a watch for Feldon.

I walked by his office on the way. Still locked. Tracing the path we’d taken before lunch, it wasn’t long to get back to Kala’s room. I nudged the door open slowly, so I wouldn’t alert him to my presence. Turned out it didn’t matter. Feldon sat in an office chair facing the door with Kala still tapping at the keyboard.

I didn’t see surprise on Feldon’s face. He raised his eyebrows with his hands cupped in front of him as he asked, “Did you need something?”

Kala whirled around and stretched. His eyes were easy and relaxed, like he didn’t expect what I was going to say.

I seized the issue immediately and stated, “I know. And I talked to Lily.”

My turn to be carefully vague. I could’ve elaborated on what I knew, but I still wasn’t entirely sure if Kala was a whistleblower or if Feldon knew as well. But Lily’s fervent words were nudging me away from thinking the worst of Feldon, for the moment at least.

I folded my arms and took a step towards them. My attention was on Feldon, who settled deeper into his chair. Kala gave a glance at him before resuming typing.

Feldon could’ve easily stonewalled me with more questions and inquiries for clarification. But he said simply, “I asked Kala to send you that file. I knew you would make the connection. And I was hoping you would make it quickly, as you have.”

There were no doubts in his tone. Feldon knew what I meant. No ambiguity, no alternatives. That alone was a little unsettling.

I took a few steps back and asked the clear and obvious question, “Why do it?”

He shut his eyes and spoke slowly to me. “Why did I hire you to write about this ranch and what we do? You’re probably guessing it’s for good PR or because reporters won’t come any other way. At least good reporters. Those are plausible reasons but they’re not my reasons…”

His words invited the next obvious question, “What are your reasons?”

“Family. Clearly and simply…family.”

I raised an eye to that. Theories orbited about in my head going from Mari to Lily to Dalya to Kala to May to…other names I was probably forgetting. I had no sense of how it all fit together, but I had a feeling that Feldon was finally ready to spill his guts.

I urged, “Tell me…”

Feldon looked to Kala with a friendly expression and rose to his feet. “There’s a small conference room down the hall a bit. We can chat there.”

Nodding, I hustled out first. My neck felt a little prickly and my throat felt tense. Once outside, Feldon had to lead the way to the room. It was a typical setup but had a screen like Edgar’s to one side and a control console. I took what looked like the most comfortable seat and scooted close to the table.

Feldon offered me something to drink. I took a water and sipped carefully as he went over to the control console.

Clasping his hands, he told me, “I said this is all about family. That’s the truth. I wish I got to know my mother better and while I lived with my father a good while, I was even further from him. So, when I met my wife’s family from America, I was stunned…they were incredible. A mother-in-law out of my dreams and a father-in-law I wish I’d known so long ago. My wife even had a brother who smiled all the time. Then add in our three children. Home was so many places, but it was never lonely…” He gave little chuckles of reminiscence.

I sighed and asked, “Dalya?”

The chuckles ended. Feldon raised a finger and tapped on the control console. Before long, a series of photos came on the screen. A young woman with a gentle smirk and dark hair cropped neatly around her head. Her eyes melded between silver and blue. I looked away. Her cheeks curled with warmth. I lingered there.

She was familiar. Of course, I’d never seen her before, but I felt something when I saw her. I pressed my heels into the floor and sighed. I let Feldon click through a series of old photos with him when his hair wasn’t quite so gray. Eventually, he came to the girls.

I narrowed my eyes. One was older and clad in a brilliant red dress. Vaguely familiar too. Still a little kid but old enough to loom above her sisters. The other two sat together, barely older than infants but their hair already growing in. They had noticeable differences about them, but they shared the same matching green tops. I cupped my mouth and looked over to Feldon.

He pointed and named, “Yes, that’s Dalya. She was our firstborn. Headstrong, beautiful, and so very clever. She and her uncle were inseparable. She wanted to be a pastry chef when she grew up. Loved the theater but would never sit still for a long performance. I was going to get her a violin for her birthday…. She lay with May as though just sleeping when they found her…with a bullet in her chest.”

Feldon bowed his head and so did I. His hand traced over the two young girls together as he told me, “Rachel and Aura. Fraternal twins. Both healthy and normal after…a little trouble and health considerations when they were born. We tried to get them to share the same bed, but they’d always kick each other. When we put them in separate rooms, they would cry all night. What do you do? Heh… Aura was more active from an early age, always crawling and climbing and opening things in our apartment we owned for a time in Yalta. Rachel would always be behind, trying to catch up. Then she’d fall and cry…”

I leaned forward as he switched to a single shot of Rachel. I peered closely at her. I looked into her eyes. A prickly feeling crawled across my neck and I had to look away. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Feldon leaned back against the table. “She was already starting to read. Well…listen to May as she read to her. Mostly in English. And a week before… she not only had her first word but her first words. All them from out of the book, all at once like an ocean of language she was trying for the first time. I remember her crying ‘wind’ as she stumbled after Aura…fitting…as that’s what ‘Aura’ means. Of course, it was more a ‘wan’ or a ‘wih’ sound if I’m being impartial, but very good for one so young…”

The prickly feeling wasn’t going away. The air was getting stuffy too. I coughed a little to myself and brushed at my hair. I told myself I had no idea where this was going. At the same time, a notion was rising in my head, one which I couldn’t shake off.