Chapter 2

Janice stretched languidly and luxuriously in her bed.

The southeast Texas sunshine streamed in the filmy curtains at the window, filling her room with mid-morning luminance. Brightly painted walls matched the ivory bedding, while the dark cherry wood four poster bed offered an interesting contrast of dark accent in this room filled with light. As did Janice's hair, spread out in an auburn fan across her pillow.

There were not many mornings like this. She had stayed up late last night, watching an old favorite movie that her husband would not have enjoyed with a pint of Blue Bell. She hardly ever had this kind of opportunity, so she was enjoying it to the fullest.

She thought of her husband, Michael. He had been so excited after Christmas when he approached her about the trip to Utah. She knew that he loved Utah and missed it terribly. Being in southeast Texas meant beauty of a very different kind than he was used to - the beauty of green growing things, of brown water and Spanish moss, of the snow-white egret and blazing red sunrises. And, most importantly to Michael and Janice, the beauty of the famed and justified southern hospitality and warmth. Michael fell in love with the South as soon as he arrived, but Janice knew that he still longed for the wide open spaces of the desert he grew up in. His job had brought them here, and her job was flexible geographically - the medical profession was as ubiquitous around the world as car repair shops or grocery stores, but much better paying. When he announced that he was considering a position in Texas, she was excited. She had grown up near Amarillo, and she was very familiar with the Spirit of Texas that permeated everything and everyone in the State. She had enjoyed their time in the San Francisco Bay area while her husband was at Berkeley, but now she was excited that their children would have the opportunity to become Texans. She'd always considered herself a Texan, a source of pride for her throughout her life.

They met many years ago. Their first meeting was brief but there was an immediate connection. She had never believed in love at first sight, or the whole "soul mate" idea. But there was something about this man, Michael, that appealed to her. She would never be able to see him without feeling that connection, even after all these years. They were in love, deeply and truly and completely in love, and their relationship continued to grow and strengthen as they years went by. She felt that she was the luckiest woman on earth to have found someone like Michael. He was kind and gentle, great with the kids, whom he treated like friends and co-conspirators rather than annoyances, and successful at work and in the community. She was genuinely proud to be his wife, proud of his accomplishments and proud to be associated with him. He never treated her with anything other that the utmost respect and deference, asking her opinion on things and involving her in his interests. They loved to go to museums (Houston was close, and there were many good places to explore there), operas, concerts, new restaurants, and many other places. As long as they were together, they were content.

So she allowed him to take the children for the week to the Utah desert. She appreciated the desert, but she did not feel the same spiritual connection to the desert that he did. This was not a wedge between them, just one of those things that make two people remain two people. She was good with it, and she hoped that their children would be able to understand the beauty of the world the way Michael did. The spiritual connection he shared with the earth and with nature was one of the most appealing aspects of Michael to her. She often felt she could smell the sagebrush and pine trees and wide open spaces on him as they embraced. It was an intoxicating thing, and blended well with her overall desire for him.

It was no surprise to her that he was an environmental engineer. He had moved their family to Texas to work for a large petrochemical conglomerate as the manager of the environmental controls and systems. He did well in his job and was soon given additional responsibility. In fact, he had sought out and began implementation of a new public outreach program which taught school children about the importance of recycling, especially plastics and other products derived from the oil industry. The program was now spread across several school districts, with teachers, administrators, and industry people involved in dramatic Earth Day excursions into sensitive areas to help clean up. And it had all began with Michael.

She stood up and walked in her bare feet to the shower. She had fallen asleep in one of Michael's big flannel shirts, the smell of him filling her dreams with peace and comfort while he was away. She even slept on his pillow to remind herself of him. After her morning rituals, she glanced at her iPhone. She had turned it on silent mode last night in an effort to gain some refuge from any intrusion while she watched her movie, and had not noticed it until now.

There were three missed calls. They were all from area code 702, with the other numbers all different.

702? Where was that? Why did that sound familiar?

She switched her phone over to internet mode and googled the 702 area code.

"Las Vegas?" she actually said aloud. "Who do I know in Las Vegas?"

She still felt the nagging sense that there was something she should be remembering, but could not put her finger on it...

There was only one voice mail message, which was left when the first call had come in...

She called the voice mail and keyed in her pass code - their anniversary date: 10-17.

The voice that came on after the introduction almost made her drop the phone. She had not heard that voice in twelve years, and had honestly begun to think she never would hear it again. It was speaking in a language she knew well, but she was one of only one hundred people on earth who could speak, read, and understand it with fluency.

In fact, it was her mother tongue. Literally. Her mother had taught her this language, the language she had learned at her mother's knee. The language her father used to give her the first instructions. The language that was used by the group, the team, the family. It was the binding and unbreakable link and an easy way to identify those who were in immediately and unequivocally.

The voice on the phone was her father.

"Please call me. You know the number. Your mother is dead. I have many things that I need to discuss with you. It's time you took your place in the world."

Then she really did drop the phone. There was only one thing that this portended - her life was about to change forever.

And not for the better.